Chapter 1: Charles (Chip) Fields

Chip---I pick up my bags and get in line to go thru customs. No problems. Then I walk thru the big sliding doors out into open air. It is dark but still hot. I expected the heat. I look around and see this skinny dark-skinned girl holding a paper sign with my name on it. I walk over to her and say, “I’m Chip Fields.”

She reaches down and takes my free hand, I only have one suitcase and I am pulling it behind me with the other hand as she leads me over to a waiting limo. The driver shakes my hand as he stores my suitcase in the trunk.

“You’ll have to forgive Adriana she speaks very little English and her Spanish is not much better.”

“What language does she speak?”

“She’s from Brazil. She speaks Portuguese, but her Spanish is getting better the longer she is here.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a pilot. She flies one of those flying boats up to the ranch every morning then back at night.”

“You’re a pilot?” I asked her in Portuguese.

She looked startled but grinned and said yes.

I guess a little explanation is in order here. When I started at the University I met a girl from Brazil. We dated a couple of semesters before she returned to Brazil. By then I had decided to take Portuguese as my foreign language requirement. I ended up taking six semesters of it and with her help I was pretty good. Ok, I could hold up my end of the conversation if it did not get too involved. Know what I mean?

We made small talk about her flying the Portors and I think she was talking about how she was a mechanic also. I am not sure about the mechanic part of the conversation. Finally we arrived at a nice hotel. The driver helped me check-in then walked me to my room.

He explained that I was safe here in the hotel but I was not to leave the hotel without calling the number on the card he handed me. It had the name of some type of Security Company on it. The girl had accompanied us to the room and she hugged me and told me she was looking forward to working with me. I think that’s what she said. I am going to spend some time on the internet brushing up on my Portuguese.

Now is the time I think I should tell you a little about myself.

Like I said my name is Charles, nobody calls me Charles, Chip Fields. I grew up in small town in west Tennessee. My dad had been a Navy pilot so I followed in his footsteps. After graduating Vanderbilt I joined the Navy, went to flight school and was trained on the F-35c, nicknamed ‘Lightening’. I loved everything about being in the Navy and flying the most advance aircraft in the world. I took my job seriously. Too seriously it turned out.

After eight years I found myself as an instructor at the school for F-35 pilots in Pensacola, Fla. It is a tough 9 month program, very intense. I demanded the best out of my students.

The new administration in D.C. wanted more ‘diversity’ in the pilots of the F-35 program. I refused to lower the standards. I argued this was dangerous to not only the pilot but to U.S. policy. What if a pilot mistakenly dropped ordinance on a school or hospital? Easy to do while flying Mach 2. What if he crashed landing on a carrier? How many others would die with him? This plane flies over 1300 miles an hour. You better know what you are doing at those speeds.

One black pilot was just not cutting it. I tried to help him. But he was stubborn and reckless. I suggested there were other jobs he could do in the Navy. He filed a complaint!

I was called before a review board and officially reprimanded. I was ordered to take ‘sensitivity’ training and a letter was placed in my file which unofficially ended my career.

Afterwards, as I turned in my letter of resignation to my commanding officer who had allowed the complaint to go forward, he said that my Tennessee accent and being from Lizard Lick did not help my case. I exploded at him. Why not? I was on my way out anyway.

“Having a Southern accent should not have played into their decision. And Lizard Lick high school has more blacks than whites not that anybody cared to check. One other thing that man is dangerous. You will find out someday.”

As it turned out I was only out of the Navy three months when I read a story about how an F-35 crashed in the mountains near San Diego. Pilot error was the reason. You guessed it. My accuser was the pilot. Having a token black working at your company may work out in civilian life. Having one going 1200 miles an hour does not work out in Military life.

Now I am out and looking for a job. I want to keep flying because I love it. Like the saying, “find a job you love to do and you’ll never work a day in your life.” Flying was my life.

I could go back to Lizard Lick and start back up the crop dusting business dad had operated until his death. But I liked flying jets. So I went to Memphis and checked in with the private airport. Private corporations always need pilots to fly their jets. I was introduced to this pretty red-haired girl who called herself the ‘flight coordinator’. In reality she handled assigning the pilots to the airplanes. I had work the next day!

I loved it. I would fly an executive on his company’s Leer to someplace like Chicago or New York hang around a day or two then fly back. I was doing what I loved without having to worry about SAM’s (surface to air missiles).

After checking in one Friday afternoon I asked that red head out and she accepted. We had a nice dinner and when I took her home she gave me a big kiss and said she enjoyed herself and would like to do it again. I can take a hint.

The next night we went to dinner and a movie. At her place I got invited in and into her bedroom!

She was everything a man could want. Nice 34-c breasts long legs, a nice ass green eyes. Did I mention her 34-c breasts with the perfect nipples and the silver dollar size aureole?

Any way that became a thing for us. I usually spent three or four nights in different cities and then on the weekends we dated. Life was great.

So great in fact that I was thinking about asking her to marry me! I figured she felt the same way about me.

It was a Friday night and I was going to be late getting back. I got a call from her not to eat supper and she would have it ready for me when I got there. Great, she is a really good cook and I can’t imagine what she is preparing. The meeting ended earlier than expected and I was at her place about an hour sooner than I had told her.

Now here is where you readers expect me to tell you that I see this big black guy exiting her apartment. He probably would be 6’ 4” tall and have a foot long cock. That did not happen.

Sue opened the door and kissed me. I could tell she was excited. She handed me an RC cola (I don’t drink alcohol and RC is my favorite cola). I was led over to the couch and she sat beside me.

“Chip I love you and I know you love me.”

“I do.”

I hear someone in the kitchen and I look at her.

“Roy, come in here,” she orders.

I stand as this short blonde haired young man comes into the living room. He is wearing an apron and has obliviously been cooking. He extends a small soft hand to me. I take it and shake his hand hoping I am about to be introduced to her gay brother.

No such luck!

“Chip this is Roy. Sit down we need to talk.”

I sit and so does Roy. I am sitting next to Sue on the couch and Roy is in a chair facing us.

“Chip I want you to promise you’ll listen and not interrupt until I am finished.”

“I promise.” Where the hell is this going?

“Roy and I met a couple of years ago. We dated and after a while we moved into this apartment.”