Chapter 2

“Francie, are you OK?” I shook my head. “Francie? Please, say something! Please!” I shook my head again then threw myself into his arms, reached around his neck and squeezed. Moving my arms must have done it. I was able to inhale and get out a squeak.

“Yes. And, no.”

“What?”

I held my hand up. “Wait. Please.” I whispered. I took a few breaths, holding him to me. Wow. Panic attack. Never did I think Francie Cooper would be at a loss for words. “OK. Sorry. I had a panic attack when you asked. I couldn’t breathe. We’ve been dancing around it for two days, and I’ve been waiting two years. Yes, Charlie, I’ll marry you. Not until tomorrow. I have homework to do.”

I kissed him. My special, special man. “Kidding. Tonight, if you want. Sorry. I really had the wind knocked out of me somehow. All the time dreaming about it, and when it happened, I couldn’t answer. I’m OK. Now. Yes, I want to marry you. Badly. Completely. Yes. Thank you.” I kissed him again. He picked me up, turned and sat in my chair with me in his lap. He rocked me in his arms. I couldn’t see him, but I felt a tear fall on my forehead. My boy was crying. He was crying for me. God, I love this man, I thought to myself. I tilted my head back and kissed his chin, then wiped the tears from his cheeks with my thumbs.

“Go. Feed me. I love you so much, Charlie, but I have homework and it won’t do itself. Engineers have to graduate before they engineer stuff. You should know that.”

He nodded, smiled at me, kissed my nose, got up, set me in my seat, kissed the top of my head and walked away. To the paper towel rack. Big Bounty sized tears. So much to love, and he loves me. Wow!

He is a good cook. Chef quality, if you ask me. After dinner, a wonderful celebration of beef and fixings, I started on my college course, sociology. I tried to help with the dishes, but he wouldn’t have it. He kissed me and went off to his office, leaving me to my devices. I would definitely learn something here. If nothing else, how to spell it. It was foreign to me, so I dove in and ... I was going to be OK. It’s just another topic with facts, ideas, but more ideas and fewer facts. I like the sciences and math. Oxygen is oxygen, hydrogen is hydrogen. Yes, you can make water with them. Four plus four will always be eight. The arts, not so much. Oh, well, it’s required. Just do it.

When I got done with the reading and the following assignment, I went into the office. He was looking at a diagram of something. Concentrating. I cleared my throat, so I wouldn’t scare him, then went up and rubbed his shoulders and his neck. He slumped forward. “Oh, baby, that feels good. How is sociology?”

I told him, “It’s schoolwork. Not the fun kind. I’ll live. It’s not what I expected, and on this path, it’ll be easier than I thought, unless I’m missing something. I’m done for the night. Want a bowl of ice cream or something?” He did. We went out and got some and a cookie, and went to bed. I fell asleep in his arms. I hoped he wasn’t disappointed.

The morning brought life and joy. Another day waking next to him. Dressed, toast, coffee, juice for me, as well, a kiss goodbye, and off I went. Life was humdrum again. But, with him. Humdrum was OK if he was humdrumming with me.

I sent him a text. “U said U want sxy txt??”

Chime. “Always”

“I want 2 lick ur pp”

Chime. Smiley face with the tongue hanging out.

“ILY, Charlie”

Chime. “ILY2, BBDL”

Chime. “OH. Park at home. Door #1 is for Princess.”

When I got home, he switched credit cards with me. My own AMEX black card. Fedex brought it today. It looked sooooo nice. Frances C Rawlins was embossed on it. I almost told him he shouldn’t, then I decided just to kiss him. He handed me a clicker that worked all three doors. The big button was me, then the Maserati, then the truck.

“The first one? Really? Why?”

“You go every day, rain or shine. I go sometimes when I feel like it, maybe, if the sun’s out, and I have to pick a car. Much more sense for you to have the first door. Anyway, when you have to go out for groceries like a good little slave girl, it’ll be closer for you.”

I playfully slapped his chest. “Honeymoon’s over before it starts!”

“Au contraire, mon fraire. When you see your wedding present, it will be back in full swing. Anyway, I run for groceries more than you ever will. You already have a job. I work part time and take care of you. THAT, my dear, is the division of labor in this castle. You get to be the Princess, unless I get a slave girl fantasy. Oh my, you may be in trouble without a safe word! MWAHHAHAHAHA!”

“A princess, alone in a castle with a loose cannon. Woe is me! I love you, ya nut.”

“Out for dinner? Can you? Homework wise?”

“I’m good. Whatcha thinkin’?”

“You pick, Francie. You always make me out to be the bad guy.”

“Italian.”

“I love you, Francie baby. I was thinking Italian! We’ve got it, don’t we!”

“I hope so, Charlie,” I told him, “If not, it’s going to be a long fifty or sixty years. You drive, babe. The Levante needs to get out, too.” We went to a mom and pop place that is really popular. I like the shrimp scampi with alfredo on angel hair. Charlie likes anything with sausage on it. Their breadsticks are dangerous, mostly because of the alfredo dipping sauce, and the salads are really good. They bake mushrooms that are a mix of the ones from OG and 54th. Really good!

Home and a little homework. When I got done, I went into the office. He was staring at that diagram. I tapped lightly on the door frame. He invited me in and I went to work on his neck and shoulders again.

“I thought you fixed it or had a breakthrough or something.”

“I did, sweetheart. It will work now. I just need to figure out a deployment and alignment scheme. This is the easy part. Twice now, you’ve come in when I was between things, staring at the screen. Doesn’t look good to observers, but I’m making progress. I’m hoping to use this to buy your wedding present.”

“Charlie, I don’t need much. I’m a simple girl with an Amex Centurion Card. What the hell else could I possibly want?” I laughed, making him smile.

“You’ll see. I have you set up to start your pilot’s license training next week. Starting Monday, after school classes for these last few weeks then full out for the summer. It’s a crash course. I’ll be with you for most of it. It’s going to ruin your summer. Except for the honeymoon and the vacation before you start your senior year. Anywhere special you want to go on vacation in late August? Not somewhere hot, I hope.”

“I’ll think on that, lover. I suppose you already have the honeymoon picked out?”

“Yes, my dear. I hope you approve, but no hints ‘til you accept my ring in front of God and everybody.”

“You already have that, too, don’t you?”

“Picked it out today. I used your mother’s wedding band to have it sized. I’ve seen you wear that. I’m afraid to give it to you, though. Last time I asked you to marry me, you stopped breathing and scared the crap out of me.”

“I promise to be more circumspect and mellow this time. OK?”

“OK.” He reached in his drawer, fell, again, to one knee and asked, “Frances Charlotte Cooper, will you marry me?” He opened the little box in his hand. “You really need to say yes this time. The black card I gave you says we already are.” He smiled. I couldn’t speak. Not a panic attack this time, but the ring was so gorgeous. And so big. Oh God.

“Yes, darling man, I love you. Does it come with a wheelbarrow to carry it around? Charlie, it’s beautiful, but it’s huge!”

“Baby, if it’s too big, we can get a smaller one. I had them set it low, look.” He was right, it didn’t stick up very far. Fine, I’ll just be careful and have Brink’s pick me up and take me to the store on Saturday. No, better not say that. No jokes. I don’t want to offend this wonderful man in any way.

“No, Charlie, it’s fine. More than fine. Wonderful. Beautiful, and it does set low and fits perfectly. I was worried about both of those things, actually. You’re pretty smart for a man.” I giggled. I did not want to ever hurt his feelings. He is such an amazing person. “And I love you. Kiss me, fiancé!”

He did, and with that, we were engaged. Now, I need to figure out what he has planned for the honeymoon and where I want to go on the vacation. I’m thinking south of the equator for the vacation. It’s pretty hot around here in August. God knows I can afford to go wherever I want us to go.

I decided to wear the ring. He told me to. It’s insured, and he loves me and he wants it on me. OK. The next couple weeks passed with little else new in our lives. EXCEPT everything being turned upside down! Starting flight school was tough, but he helped me with a few general questions and helped me visualize. The book work went well, and then my first flights. Wow. This is me. I can do this. The bookwork is how you pay the price to be free and fly.

And, we had sex, oral sex, a lot, and speaking for myself, enjoyed the heck out of it. I was getting close to being able to put him into my throat, and I wanted that to happen. Badly. I tried a purple silicone dildo that I found in Mom’s stuff, much smaller than Charlie, but I actually did better with the real thing even though it was larger. Oh well. Keep trying. I was trying to put off giving him my bottom until our wedding night. That was my plan. The wedding was set for the sixth of July and we were going to be out for a little over two weeks, but if we wanted, he said, we could come home early, maybe. We’d just have to see.

The end of the school year came and went. I was ranked third in the class, mostly because I didn’t do sports. I wanted to play softball, but they had an issue with it and I just gave up. They did say I could play in the fall if I wanted, so I’d think about it. I might still be busy with the flight thing. We were up in the air, flying toward Iowa, just Charlie and me. Funny story. I’ll get to it in a minute. Anyway, I asked him about softball and he said it was more important for me to do that than any other thing. It was something I had wanted and been denied. He told me to go for it, and that I’d be able to finish the flight thing around graduation, maybe a little later. “Oh. That long?” I asked.

“Yes, dear. You can quit anytime you want, but I want you to try. At least start. Play by my rules this summer, play softball, work hard on the rest of your pilot training, and you’ll understand. I promise you’ll be happy.”

“As you wish, My Prince. As you wish.”

Oh, the funny thing. He didn’t talk about it much, but my Charlie is actually a pilot. That’s what he did in the Air Force. F-16s, then C-38s, then a stint on loan to the Army with C-35s. He flew what most people look at as business jets. That was his niche. He also instructed in T1A trainers, a little business jet. Amazing. Anyway, as a hobby, he kept his certifications active and flew with a friend here and there, renting a plane now and again. My husband to be was now my instructor, on occasion. Mostly when I was just logging hours to get to the next step. He did a couple of the problem scenarios on me but wanted the civilian instructors to do most of those for me. He said he was too attached to be objective. Worked for me. We spent a lot of time together, even if it was with headsets on.

He slipped and told me it would get better in July, which got my ‘curious’ way up. He gave me wings. I’m not going to harass him about it, but I was really getting interested in what his game was. Long term.

I came in from going to the store one time. He said he had an errand to run, so he had left in the morning. I got back after an hour or so and there in the kitchen was a shirt, hanging on a hanger, blue chambray with tails.

“Uhmmmm. My Prince, to what do I owe the clothing display? It’s way too small for you.”

“Wear it to the airport for your lesson tomorrow. Trust me on this one.”

“Tomorrow? Really?” I was a wreck all evening. Charlie finally had to put me to sleep the fun way. He wore me out.

They said I did great, though. I went up with my instructor for a while, did a few landings, flew around the area we just do circles in, then he had me go back to the hangar. He signed my log book and told me to just keep doing what I’ve been doing and I’d be fine. I was so nervous. Charlie waved at me and blew me a kiss. I went through the checklists, just like if Marvin was next to me, did it all correctly, I spent a little time flying circles around a town up north, then back home, then a landing. He wanted me to land into a high-speed taxi, then take off, so, two touch and goes, as we had plenty of runway, then land and taxi back to the end of the runway and take off twice. After the last one, I came back and parked. I got a kiss and a hug from a real Air Force Pilot, and then he set me down and Marvin pulled my shirt out and cut the back tail off it. We went inside where he handed me a laundry pen. Name, signature, and date. Wow. I soloed. Marvin signed off my log book, I thanked him and hugged him. He told me there was a lot left to do and he’d be there for me, but Charlie could help with a lot of it from here on out.

We went home and celebrated. Two weeks until the wedding. Wow. I keep saying Wow. I’m a Wow girl. With a Wow life, now. I had one before, but it was all bad Wows. Now it was all good Wows. Last week I picked out a dress. He told me, anything I wanted, in any color I wanted, as long as it was extravagant and white. Yep, any color of white I wanted, as long as it was really, really white, for his virgin bride. Not egg shell, not ecru, not off white. He told me, straight up, “The kind of white you’ll be afraid to rub up against anything in. That white.” I think maybe he was catching on. Pretty smart, for a guy.

My dress was extravagance in motion. A Princess cut, beaded, sleeveless, but not floor length. I just didn’t like the look. This thing made my bust and waist look like a magazine wedding dress model. It was knee length and looked marvelous with the teak hose and white strappy stiletto sandals. Susan and the dress lady at Neiman Marcus loved the look. It had a headpiece, a little veil and I loved it. No train. Ickkk. We had spoken to the preacher at the church we went to before Mom ... Before then, and he said he would marry us, happily. He knew the story and the trials and tribulations, literally, that we had been through as a family and while understanding our absence requested both of us attend regularly. I told him “I’ll work on it, but you know how men are.” He laughed. My man didn’t. Oh well. No sense of humor in church.

We went flying several times, to other airports, even once flying to Wichita to the Cessna plant to look around. They will let you land if you have an appointment with sales people and have the means to buy a plane. We looked around, spent the night at a hotel, and headed home the next morning. On the way, he asked me if I liked any of them. “The Caravan was too big, the Denali was nice, but not ready to deliver yet, no way I’m dropping nine million on a jet, so the CJ4 was out. No, not really.”

“Good,” he said. I have other plans,” Charlie told me. BINGO! Our honeymoon was meant for airplane shopping. How many girls get a two and a half carat diamond AND a plane for their wedding? Huh? Wow.

Our wedding was phenomenal. I had no idea he had that many friends. I never see any of them at home and he never seems to go anywhere. A bunch of mine came, too. I was really happy about that. You hear horror stories about trans people and their relationships with others, but I did make friends, and some of us were pretty close. Karen and I certainly were. We held it at the country club, so we could have the ceremony right next to the reception area, which was a banquet room off the dining room. There was a little area outside some French doors off the banquet room that worked just fine for mixing. It was really a nice wedding. The groom was handsome. His tux was just beautiful. He is a very good-looking guy, and in that tuxedo, he was just over the top gorgeous. Karen danced with Charlie, congratulating me afterwards. She said I hunked out. We partied all evening, then after we had thanked everyone in the state for their sharing of our wonderful wedding, we left them with another hour on an open bar, just as a helicopter landed on the first fairway to take us to the airport.

We each had two suitcases packed, dress and casual clothes, plus I had a bag on board for the wedding dress, which I could change out of at any time I wanted but could leave on until we got where we were going. My choice. It wasn’t uncomfortable, yet, so I was going with leave it on. Then he told me it was going to be several hours, with a stop in Miami. That meant south. Probably South America. WHAT!?!?

I still wasn’t privy to the operation, but at the airport a pretty good-sized plane picked us up. Embraer Legacy 650E. Any good hints there?? Not yet. We stopped in Miami at a hangar that said Signature over it. Hmmmm. Nope, nothing yet. “Charlie, any hints? I think I’ll try to rough it in the dress. It’s late, really late, but I think it will be fun to walk in, wherever we are going dressed like newlyweds. Anyway, you have to take it off me. That’s tradition, right??” I got him to smile. A big one.

“No, baby, no hints, but we’re not going home in this thing, I hope.” He kissed my nose.

I fell asleep, across from him, holding his hand, while laid out in a really comfortable seat. It went all the way back, sucked me into it, and the next thing I remember was the pilot saying we were approaching Sao Paulo. BRAZIL?!?!? Wow. I was feeling a touch clammy, but I thought we could wait for whatever was coming. Like the sun. I looked out the window and the sun was trying to peek up over the horizon. It was early morning, but I planned on staying awake long enough for ... You know.

“Babe, did you get any sleep?”

“Yeah, doll, I got a nap. I’m good for a while. I’m glad you slept. Once we get to the hotel, I’ll give you the rest of the info on the trip. By the way, it’s a working vacation. You have your private pilot’s license now, and are working on your instrument rating. You’ll be working more on that here. You are going to think your new husband is an asshole by the time we leave Brazil. I hope you still love him.”

“Charlie, if you don’t leave me here, I’ll love you. There is nothing you can do to make me stop loving you. Nothing.” I did my British voice again. “Nothing, I say, my good man!” He smiled at me. I love his smile.

We deplaned in front of a hangar with Embraer SA painted on the front of it. Now I know. We were buying an Embraer. Had to be a small one. We’re not exactly rich. Things are relative, I know. They had a limo pick us up on the ramp and take us to the Hotel Matao Othon Suites. Best hotel in town, according to the driver. Better than tents, and looking around, we were not in the city, but in the state. Wow. This is the country. Or not. As we arrived, I realized the city had skyscrapers. It was a small city. Bigger than where we lived, even if it was farther from a big city than we were. In any case, we were tired, the hotel was clean and nice. About like a Comfort Suites if I had to compare. I stayed in one once after the trial. Free WiFi and free breakfast. Yeah, compare.

In the room, I pulled my man down for a kiss and turned my back to him. I heard, “Huh?”

“Oh, sorry, babe. Side zip. Under my arm here.” I raised my arm for him.

“God, you’re beautiful, Francie.” He hugged me, then peeled the dress down. Heels, stockings, garter belt, and a thong. That was it. His smile was telling. “Let me finish. I want to shower and make love to you so badly, my bride.” He peeled the thong down, then undid the garters and the garter belt. He sat me down, then rolled the stockings down to my ankles then knelt to get my shoes off then finished the stockings. He was gentle and loving all the way. He undressed himself and hung his tux up. They’d go together in the garment bag after they aired out and we’d get them to the cleaners. Naked, we held hands and went into the shower. It was a stand-up shower, versus a tub shower, so there was room for both of us. And, we were thorough. Very thorough. We brought our own soaps and such, since we knew we’d be here for a couple of weeks.

He was washing me, doing a good job, but I felt like I was getting a little tired, so I got the pace going a little. “Charlie, hold your hand out for me.” He did so I squirted some soap on it and shocked him with my next request. “Can you use your fingers, one, then two, then three and work that stuff into my butt? Please. I have some lube in my case, but I want you to start now.”

“Sure, honey.” He started, causing feelings in me I have never, ever felt. With two fingers, I actually came. He felt me start and held me through it. Then three fingers, he could reach my button from there, thank God. I don’t think I could have handled it without him holding me.

“Chuck, rinse. Us. Bed. Please.” He rinsed us both, then carried me to bed. I told him where the tube of surgilube was, and he applied it. Liberally. On me. In me. On him, then he smiled at me. I smiled back. He grabbed my ankles lifting them up and pulling them back by my ears.

“If I hurt you, I’m going to kill myself.”

“If you hurt me, I’ll love you forever, remembering the incident. Virgins hurt their first time. Product of nature. Now, very slowly, put your love in me, husband!”

That was the last coherent thing I heard for about ten hours. His cock filled me, albeit slowly, and when the head brushed my button, my prostate, I came all over my tummy again. He stopped, deep, all the way in me, wiped up my come with his thumb and sucked it off, then got more and fed it to me. Then started into me again. He was pumping slowly. Adding a little lube, then he spit on it to wet where we were joined. When the dollop of spit hit my butthole, I came again. I was losing consciousness, quickly. He fucked up into me a couple more times.

“Come in me, babe. Fuck your wife. Come, Charlie. Come in me, now, let go, COME IN ME!!!” As I came for the fourth time, he joined me. I felt him pulsing as he squirted his seed into me. He couldn’t stay in, but he laid me down softly, put a towel under me, then wiped himself off. I just barely remember telling him I loved him as I drifted off. By then his arm was around me and my head was on his chest.

It was evening when we woke. I woke him with a kiss on his lips. His pretty eyes opened, looking into mine. “I love you, Charlie Rawlins. Thank you for making me your wife.”

“And I love and adore you, Francie Rawlins. Thank you for becoming my wife.” We smiled at each other then ran to the bathroom. I beat him, so he peed between my legs again. “Shower, babe, then we can cruise this burg looking for sustenance. I’m starving,” he said.

Cleaned, and dressed in casual attire, we checked with the desk clerk who spoke fairly good English. He recommended the restaurant here in the hotel, or Quero Quero, across the way and down a little. He also handed Charlie the keys to a car and told us it was right outside. A little Chevy Cruze. I looked out the door, and we were right next to a Chevrolet dealership. OK. The desk clerk said to watch my phone, as the Embraer sales and training staffs would be contacting us this weekend and start ‘the little girl’s’ training on Monday. HMPPPHHHHH. Whatever. I wanted to say I’m a big girl now, but that sounds like a diaper commercial. I snickered instead, and told him thank you. Off to Quero Quero we went. They had a waitress that could help us somewhat. We wound up with steaks and broccoli and cauliflower with cheese sauce. Did we even leave the States??? The steak was great. I’ve heard that Brazil is a beef place. Sure seems like it.

“OK, Buster. Come clean. All of it. You are obviously buying a plane, and he mentioned me going through training. That was a message from your sales person, I’m sure.”

“We are here to take delivery of your wedding present. It’s in your name, with me as a second. It’s an Embraer, obviously, Phenom 300E. It’s one of the few jets that can be piloted legally by one person. I wanted you to have a plane you could fly alone and get where you’re going quickly. Four hundred and twenty knots quickly.”

I said Wow again. “Wow. You bought me a jet?”

“Yes, dear. Remember the CJ4 in Wichita? Very similar, but it’s a custom job with an extra 2400-pound fuel capacity. It’s really a flying gas can. It’ll make all the difference and doesn’t always have to be used or filled. That’s a little more than a thousand nautical miles in the 300. You’ll either love it, or I’ll figure something else out.”

“I’ll love it. It’s from you. A jet, though?”

“Honey, you said you wanted to fly. You can. Now you can fly fast and have fun. It’s expensive, and yet it’s practical at the same time. You, well, we, can come and go as we please. Work, fun, vacation, deliver parts, it’s up to us. We have the money. Why not.” I nodded. “Now, starting Monday, you are going to be in the classroom, simulators, and flying one of these things all over South America. You’re getting your multi and turbine tickets and more of the instrument training, although, this thing is really cheating for that. You need some hood experience in a beater to really feel good about that.”

We caught up on sleep with a full night snuggled together that night, and a nap Sunday afternoon. The Embraer staff actually sent someone out to have dinner with us. As is custom, it was a couple, since we were. They both worked there, but she was just there for the social customs angle. They spoke decent English, so we talked for a bit and decided that we should all go out to dinner. They took us to Quero Quero again. Seems it was a favorite. The conversation turned to us, and we told them we were newlyweds and the 300 was my wedding present. That set them back, as most corporate jets are corporate jets, not some little girl’s wedding present. They didn’t say anything, but you can tell that’s what they were thinking. Hopefully they didn’t think I was some young whiny teenaged spoiled brat with a rich husband. I don’t whine. I specifically DO NOT whine. On a positive note, we were both highly complimented on our new spouses. I could live with that, but I do not whine.

They left some papers with us to fill out, read, sign, and some for me to study, as well as directions to the air field southwest of here. The most novel was the cockpit diagrams. Wow! The yokes looked like crotch-rocket handlebars. The little ones on the really fast motor cycles. This could be fun. It was definitely going to be different. At least it didn’t have joysticks. The next model up does. I don’t think I’d like that. I don’t know. Charlie weighed in on the joysticks. “To each his own, but I’m with you. I like the control yoke idea in a plane. Fighters are different. My F-16 was like flying the right seat of a 450E, but that would make the pilot seat weird for me. While we’re discussing all this, remember, I have to be checked out on this thing, too, or we can’t take it home with us. We’re flying our own plane while we’re down here. You are. If we need two at once, I’ll use theirs.”

Flight training in a crash course environment is interesting. Never a dull moment. The simulators got me started and got my interest up. The yokes were kind of cool and I’ll get used to them. The book work was intense, but doable. We were both checked out on the aircraft, and I had all the study materials and hours I needed to get certified back home. I just needed to take the tests and the check ride. For the certifications. We were flying legally, though, and it was fun. Friday night we made mad passionate love in the hotel for the last time, then Saturday went out to the field, packed our stuff in the huge luggage compartment, threw the snacks in the mini fridge, and headed out.

My thirty-third take off in a Phenom 300E was heading to Bogota for gas and a rest, then home from there. We were using the extra tanks on the way home so we only had to stop in Bogota, and not two stops, hopping the Caribbean or something. I love this plane. No, sorry. I love my husband. I really like this plane. It’s easy, stable, fun, responsive, and just plane nice. Pun and misspelling intended. I was anxious to get out of Bogota for many reasons, but most of which were from TV movies and news. When we landed and were directed to the Signature FBO ramp, I felt better. We talked about this, Charlie and I, and he told me they were basically worldwide, and known for their service, security, and amenities. OK. The middle one. Good. One night in a close by hotel and outa there.

Charlie had arranged for a hangar for us at home, but we had to land in St Louis first and go through customs. When they found out we came in from Bogota, the questions started, and the dogs were turned loose. Then they kind of listened when we said we were coming from Embraer in Sao Paulo with our new plane and stopped there for gas and a nap. The dogs only went through everything twice. Security is a big deal. If someone stashes drugs on your plane, you can lose it to confiscation for drug trafficking. Not good. In any case, we got through that, filled the main tanks and went home. We topped them off, used a little tractor to put the jet away, and like all new owners of new things, I got the step ladder off the hangar wall and cleaned the windshield before we left. Hey, a girl has got to keep her ride spiffy. I was so proud.