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This is a work of fiction, set in a very real time period. I have tried to faithfully present this remarkable point in history, in both the details and historical accuracy. This tale is not meant not be revisionist history, nor even speculative “what if”. It is meant only for enjoyment and I hope it fits that billing.


With a roar of its powerful engine, the P-51D Mustang lifted off the strip at Mines Field and rose quickly into the thick overcast. The plane had been ferried over from El Segundo, and was now making the long cross-country flight that would take it near an East Coast harbor, and eventually to English soil. She would then enter the war that had been raging in Europe for over six years. The sleek fighter, with its ungainly extra fuel tank, banked sharply over the bay and soon began to fly low over the highway that led to Palm Springs.

Inside the cockpit, twenty-year old Andrea Campbell peered out of the canopy to make sure she was following the correct highway. Andrea had joined the WASPs in Macon, Georgia, and had only completed her flight training two months before. This was only her second time ferrying one of the powerful fighters across the U.S., and she was still not used to the tremendous power and agility of the planes.

The road was practically empty, due to wartime rationing and the lateness of the day. Usually she would be flying with other pilots, but her Mustang had developed engine trouble, and she had been forced to land for repairs moments after takeoff. The plane had been fixed and she now had to make the late flight to try to catch up to the rest of her group.

Ferrying warplanes was a very important task and each of the WASPs took their job seriously. Once they took off, that plane was theirs, and it was their responsibility to get it to the shipping point. There was no waiting for others to fly with, and if their planes developed problems, they had to get them fixed as quickly as the ground crews could manage, and carry on by themselves, if need be.

Andrea was as committed as any of her fellow pilots was, but she was not very comfortable flying solo yet. As time passed and the sun sank, though, the droning of the engine relaxed her. Andrea loved flying, and hoped she could continue to do so after the war. Her parents had always considered her an “odd bird” and opinions in her small town ranged from “touched” to “one of those”. She had no interest in finding a husband and settling down to a life of boredom and drudgery.

She had gained her pilot’s license and for a while flew crop dusters to help her father, before he sold the business. That life of boredom and drudgery had seemed to be her only option left, until the day the recruiter came to her home and gave his pitch. Her folks were dead set against her doing something so dangerous, but to Andrea, it had been nothing short of a miraculous answer to her prayers. The Women’s Air Force Service Pilots program had given her a ticket out the stiffening atmosphere of her hometown, and even if she couldn’t stay in the military after the war, she swore she was never going back. The recruiter had promised that the WASPs would be around after the war, and had even told her they were going to start officers’ training, soon.

Flying gave her plenty of time to think; it was one of the things she loved about it. The freedom and adrenaline rush were complimented by the isolation and time to contemplate. The war was far from over, but Andrea knew it was coming to a close. The D-Day invasion had been called the beginning of the end for Hitler and the Nazis. In the Pacific, General Macarthur and Admiral Nimitz had the hated Japanese on the run.

Like everyone else, she was tired of the war and hoped it would end soon, but like many of the women now working, she hoped an end to the war would not signal a return to the role of women being homemakers only. She wanted a life, but not one of ceaseless toil, as she had watched her mother endure. Men had no place in her future plans, and that went doubly for a husband. She kept her attraction to a certain type of woman very carefully hidden, but she knew in her heart that it was just that kind of woman who would always “do it” for her.

It was growing dark and the field wasn’t yet in sight, when she first noticed that the plane was acting strange. The familiar engine drone had become rough, and there was a shimmy in the airframe, almost as if the engine was trying to get away from the rest of the plane. She glanced at her instruments, and a cold fear clutched at her heart. The panel was dead. She had nothing: no altimeter, engine RPM, airspeed, heading, oil pressure, the whole damned panel was gone. Andrea felt sweat on her hands inside the black gloves she wore. The control yoke was still working, but the plane was reacting sluggishly. She fought down a rising panic and tried to raise the tower.

“This is transfer 147 to Tower, over,” she called. Static was all she got, but at least the static meant the radio wasn’t dead, although it might not be transmitting or receiving.

“This is transfer 147 to Palm Springs, Tower. Do you copy?”

Still no reply. Nothing. Andrea scanned the ground, but night had already fallen and she couldn’t even find the road in the gathering gloom. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she felt sweat pouring off her face. She was glad of the goggles she wore, and unconsciously tightened the harness on her parachute.

“This is transfer 147. Mayday, mayday. Does anyone copy?” she called. She could hear the rising panic in her own voice. For a moment there was nothing, and then her radio crackled and a voice came in.

“One-four-seven, this is transfer one-five-two, do you copy?” a faint voice replied.

The voice was calm and commanding, with a deep Brooklyn accent. Andrea was so relieved to find she was at least transmitting.

“One-five-two, I copy.”

“What’s the problem, one-four-seven?”

“My instruments are dead, the engine is running rough, and I can’t raise the tower,” Andrea said. Her voice sounded much calmer now.

“Roger, I have the tower. Bring yourself to heading one-eight-O. You’re north of the field.”

“My compass is out,” Andrea said as the panic set in again.

“Don’t panic, girl,” the voice ordered.

“What do I do?”

“Just hang tight and cut on your running lights,” the voice called. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

There was a calm confidence in that voice, and Andrea drew some strength from it. Without instruments, she had no idea how she was doing on gas, but it shouldn’t be a concern. She had more than enough for the short hop in her tanks. Still, the next five minutes held a nightmarish feeling, as she tried to keep calm.

“One-four-seven, do you copy?” the voice called. The signal was much stronger now.


“Listen to me carefully. Your radio is dying too; the signal is getting weaker by the moment. Bank left and look up, I’m right behind you and about two thousand feet above you. Don’t key your mic anymore, just follow me. I’ll lead you home.”

Andrea tried to bank and, for a split second, her heart froze when the engine whined as if it were about to stall. She spotted the other plane’s lights and throttled up slightly to climb to its altitude and catch up. The fighter lurched, the engine screamed, and the whole airframe shook violently. Andrea held her breath, but the plane adjusted to the higher RPM and she slowly climbed. The other plane, also a Mustang, waggled its wings and banked gently, and then Andrea followed.

For the next 20 minutes, Andrea listened with growing alarm as the rumbling of the engine became ever rougher. The whole plane had developed a bucking shudder and she was fighting with the control stick as the plane’s responses became more and more sluggish. She was beginning to feel like she was riding in the rumble seat on a gravel road, when the plane before her began a gentle descent.

“Can you see the lights, one-four-seven?”

Andrea looked down and there before her on the flat dessert were the runway lights. Nothing she had ever seen looked so comforting.

“I see them.”

“All right, I’m going in with you. I’ll call out the numbers; just stay right with me. Best of luck.”

The other plane moved back to even with her, and Andrea spent an intense few moments matching her speed to that of her companion.

“Throttle back, your airspeed is too high,” the calm voice in her ear whispered.

She knew her radio was going. At this range, the other pilot should have been loud and clear, but the signal she was getting was increasingly faint.

“Good, good. All right, landing gear down.”

Andrea hit the small switch to lower her gear, but the plane was shuddering so violently she couldn’t tell if they had deployed.

“Can you see if they are down?” Andrea called.

The other plane dipped from her sight for a moment, and then returned to her wing. If the landing gear hadn’t deployed, she was in trouble, because she had never tried a belly landing. If only one of the wheels was down, she was pretty much doomed and would be better off bailing out. Even skilled pilots had trouble with one-down landings.

“Looking good. Airspeed is good. On my mark, flaps down, and then she’s all yours. Three, two, one, flaps!”

Andrea deployed the flaps, which caused the already violently shuddering plane to buck like a bronco. The field was coming up fast, and she had not even time to think before she hit, and she hit it hard. The violent impact threw her forward in her harness, but the second and third hops were less violent, and as she throttled back, the plane slowly rolled to a halt.

Smoke was pouring from the cowling, and emergency vehicles were all around. Men jumped on the wing of the still rolling plane, and tore back the canopy. She was pulled from the cockpit and down the wing to a waiting stretcher. In the ambulance, she was vaguely aware of the slight sting of a syringe needle, and in a matter of seconds, she knew no more.


Andrea was tired of the hospital bed. The landing hadn’t broken any bones, but both of her shoulders had been wrenched, and she had spent two days there already. She was happy when the doctor released her, and she hurriedly put on her flight suit. Andrea knew she just had to get back in a plane before the fear she felt overwhelmed her. She made her way out to the North American line and stood silently in front of her plane.

“You bring that bird in?” a deep baritone voice behind her asked.

Andrea turned to find herself staring at a man’s chest. She was only five-foot-seven, but she wasn’t that short. The man before her was huge, with bulging muscles and flaming red hair worn in a crew cut.


“Let me shake your hand, girl. That was some flying. Name’s Seamus McGuire and I know a lot of men who would have caterpillar’d rather than fight it down,” he said extending a huge paw.

Andrea shook his hand and found herself liking him.

“Andrea Campbell. What was wrong with it?”

“Friday job,” he said as he dug into the pocket of his grease-stained.

“Friday job?” she asked in bewilderment.

“Yeah, take a look at these,” he said as he held up a handful of twisted, mangled and sheared off bolts. Andrea looked at them, but she didn’t know anything about the engines of the planes she flew.

“Some dolt at the plant forgot to put in one of the mounting lugs. The engine vibration tore these others up. A few more minutes and you would have been up there without an engine.”

“What about the instruments and radio?” she asked, feeling a rising dread in her soul.

“All came from the engine. Once she got to dancing in there, all kinds of things tore loose. Lucky for you, Tommy was close when you called the mayday. You would have never raised the tower. Looks like the first thing to go was your antenna.”


“Yeah, Tommy Andover,” the man said smiling.

“Who is that?” Andrea asked in confusion.

“Oh, I thought you probably knew her. Her real name is Thomasina, but she prefers Tommy,” he said, and then added with a wink and grin, “prefers redheads too.”

“Oh,” Andrea said, blushing furiously.

There were running jokes and commentary on the sexual preferences of the WASPs. People, especially men, had a hard time understanding that the women in the service were every bit as patriotic as they were and wanted to serve their country. Old traditions and social mores died hard. To most men in the country, it seemed women were meant to make children and dinner. Rosy the Riveter and the women in the service seemed to be an affront to some of them. As if a woman’s femininity was somehow lessened by helping her country when there was a war on. The worst offenders were usually also the first guys to ask them out.

“Not that I am insinuating anything about you, mind you. I respect you gals. I can fix anything that breaks on one of these birds, but I’ll be damned if I would ever get in one.”

“Is she ready?”

“Oh yeah. Trust me, darlin’, you won’t have another bit of trouble out of this bird, you have my word on it.”

“Thanks,” she said as she climbed in.

She felt strange, both scared and exhilarated as the powerful engine started with a snort. She taxied into position at the end of the sandy strip and waited for clearance. Once she got it, she said a quick prayer and throttled up.


Seamus proved to be as good as his word, and by pushing herself, Andrea made it to the delivery point just two days behind the rest of her group. She checked in with the base commander, changed into her dress uniform, and got a ticket back to L.A. on the train. Andrea was dead tired, but she didn’t have any time to waste. If she caught the train back to L.A. that night, she should catch up with the rest of her friends, but she feared she would never make it to the station in time to catch the last train on foot. Luckily, she was an attractive girl, and it turned out to be easy to catch a lift with an MP headed into town. Once she was at the station, she managed to find a seat in the crowded car and fell instantly asleep.

When she awoke, the car was less crowded. That’s how it usually worked on these cross-country trains. They would take the hordes of young men recruited on the East Coast to their training facilities. Once the train crossed the Mississippi, it would be nearly deserted. As they approached the coast, it would fill up again with trained recruits heading towards the west coast seaports and eventual shipment overseas as replacements for the troops in the Pacific.

In the early morning twilight, she took some time to observe her traveling companions. Three sleeping soldiers, who she assumed were returning from leave. A grizzled old Marine with more stripes and decorations than she had ever seen before on a dress uniform, dozed fitfully while leaning against a window. Four men and a woman in civvies, of whom she couldn’t guess a destination, but she assumed they must have been of some importance, because unnecessary travel was frowned upon.

In the last seat in the car, a woman in WASP dress blues like Andrea wore.

The woman was stocky and had a very dark completion, with dark hair and intelligent brown eyes. She was staring at Andrea, and when their eyes met, she smiled. Her lips were full and pouty, and the smile was very pretty on her features. Everyone else was asleep, it seemed, and the woman silently motioned for Andrea to join her. She moved carefully and quietly to the last seat and sat across from the girl.

“Where you headed?” the girl asked in a sultry voice. There was something vaguely familiar about it, but Andrea wasn’t quite sure what.

“L.A.” she responded quietly.

“Me too,” the woman said and stuck out her hand. “Tommy Andover. Nice to meet you.”

“Andrea Caldwell, and we’ve already met,” Andrea said. So this was Tommy Andover, the girl who liked redheads. Andrea was pleased to meet her and get a chance to thank her.

“I don’t think so, I’d remember an angel-puss like you,” the dark haired girl said and flashed a smile. Andrea blushed and lowered her eyes for a moment.

“I was transfer 147,” she said.

The dark haired girl looked at her strangely and, after a few moments, a light seemed to go on in her head.

“Palm Springs?”

“Yes,” Andrea said and smiled. Something about this woman made her fell all fluttery inside and suddenly very shy.

“Glad to see you made it down in one piece, toots.”

“Thank you, you saved my life,” Andrea said.

“Nah, you could have caterpillar’d, if things got too bad. What was wrong with that bird anyway? And how did you know it was me that talked you down?”

“I don’t think I would have had time, the mechanic said the engine was about to rip loose. He’s also the one who told me your name.”

“Seamus?” Tommy asked.


“Probably told you I’m a stud broad too,” Tommy said, smiling when Andrea blushed scarlet.

“Well, he did mention you liked redheads,” Andrea said softly.

“Sure do, nothing like a little redheaded Dutch girl to get me going,” Tommy said.

Andrea blushed and felt very uncomfortable. She had never met anyone so up front about her sexuality and it made her nervous.

“You’re blushing, am I making you nervous?”

“I’ve just never met anyone who was so… open… about… well, you know.”

“About being a lezzie? Well, I guess I’m pretty upfront about it, but why try and hide it? I love a girl who likes to eat jam,” she said and shrugged.

She took out a pack of Lucky Strikes and offered one to Andrea who declined. Tommy lit one and breathed in deeply before exhaling.

“So what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you or don’t you?” she said as she smiled rakishly and arched an eyebrow. Andrea simply blushed and lowered her eyes. She didn’t know what to say or how to say it. She was still looking at the floor when Tommy caught her hand and pulled her across the small opening between seats and into her lap.

“Let me guess. You do, or at least you would, but you haven’t had the chance yet, am I right?” she whispered in Andrea’s ear.

“Please,” Andrea begged as she struggled to return to her seat.

Tommy was strong and held her fast for a few moments, then suddenly released her hold, but Andrea found the will to get up was gone. She could feel Tommy’s strong shoulders and chest pressed against her back as well as the girl’s hips on her ass.

“Gonna get up? Or are you comfy where you’re sitting?” the dark haired girl whispered in Andrea’s ear. Andrea blushed crimson, but found herself incapable of moving and gasped when the shorter woman’s hand slipped to her hip. Her body stiffened, then shuddered when the tip of Tommy’s tongue traced along her ear.

“Well, since you seem to be in no hurry to move, how ’bout a bit of Braille?” Tommy whispered.

Andrea felt herself begin to shake uncontrollably and her eyes darted around the interior of the car. Tommy brought the cigarette to her lips and Andrea inhaled automatically, drawing the thick smoke deeply into her lungs.

“Relax, angel-puss, they’re all asleep. You just keep that butt in your mouth and don’t make a sound and let ole Tommy take care of ya,” the butch whispered.

Tommy seemed unconcerned about where they were, as her hands slipped around the redhead’s waist and hugged her tightly. Andrea was a slim girl, almost frail, and the experienced pilot could feel her ribs easily. Tommy generally went for more buxom women, but something about this one was different. It wasn’t just the shyness, the soft southern accent, or the unconscious grace; something about her gave Tommy the hots in a way she hadn’t experienced before. She didn’t just want to fuck her, she wanted to claim her and keep her.

Whoa, Tommy girl, she admonished herself. It’s a long way from feeling her up on the train to having her.

Still, she was quite a dish and oh so light. Tommy shifted her weight, not because she needed to, but just to enjoy the ease with which she could move Andrea’s slim body.

Andrea’s eyes darted from passenger to passenger, nervously, her small hands ineffectively resting on Tommy’s larger ones. Tommy’s hands slipped to the belt that circled Andrea’s trim waist and held her dress jacket closed. It took her only a moment or two to defeat the belt, but to Andrea it seemed to take ages and make more noise than she ever remembered.

Her eyes darted restlessly from person to person. No one seemed to have heard. She took a deep drag on the cigarette and coughed, but if Tommy noticed, she didn’t let it stop her hands, which were quickly defeating the buttons on Andrea’s jacket.

Andrea felt Tommy’s hands slide up the smart white blouse and then cup her small breasts. A gentle squeeze sent ripples of pleasure into the small girl’s system and her back arched involuntarily. Tommy’s hands then covered her breasts, kneading them lovingly as the dark-haired pilot nibbled on Andrea’s neck. She felt her nipples harden and they seemed to fit perfectly into Tommy’s palms. Each squeeze teased the taut nubbins of flesh and made Andrea’s lower lip quiver uncontrollably.

As the train rolled on, Tommy’s squeezes took up the rhythm of the rails, adding a distinct aural quality to Andrea’s rising arousal. For years to follow, she would be unable to ride the train without becoming aroused.

The redhead’s breathing became more labored as her arousal spiked. She felt the warm rush of blood to her center, followed by the warm slickness between her legs.

Andrea was almost panting, her breath coming in short gasps. Her tie seemed to be too tight, and the starched collar of her blouse was chaffing her neck as her body undulated. She couldn’t keep her hips or bottom still, her lower body seemed to have gained a mind of its own. Her back was arched, and a feeling of tightness in the lower part continued to build. She tried to ask Tommy to stop, but the moment her lips parted, a soft moan escaped. Andrea clamped her lips shut, leaving the cigarette dangling.

Tommy’s hands abandoned her then heaving and incredibly sensitive breasts, and glided down her body to her skirt. Andrea blushed from head to toe as Tommy slowly pulled the hem up, folding it twice and revealing the tops of her stockings. The pilot seemed well acquainted with her underwear, easily defeating the girdle that so often frustrated men. That made sense, of course, as she wore them herself, but to Andrea’s addled mind, it seemed to make those hands magical.

Slight pressure on her thighs caused them to part wantonly, and Andrea felt as if she had no control of her own body. It was reacting without conscious thought, and if she had not been so randy, it would have concerned her. As it was, she accepted her legs moving to accommodate those hands as a matter beyond her control.

Tommy’s big hands felt cool to her superheated skin, as they slipped up and gently massaged either side of her mound. When the compact woman cupped her pussy, Andrea groaned. It sounded like a scream to her, and her eyes jerked up, but no one had heard. Tommy’s left hand moved back up and captured a nipple, gently rolling it between thumb and forefinger, as her other hand pressed between Andrea’s slick lips and caressed her inner folds. Andrea was beside herself, moaning into the back of her tightly sealed lips and seeing small starbursts on the back of her eyelids when she closed her eyes.

Tommy’s long finger teased her entrance, and then slowly sank into her pussy. Andrea felt a strange tearing sensation in her head, a kind of splitting of her conscious mind into a part that was feeling and a part that was thinking about the feelings. She could feel every bump and ridge on Tommy’s finger. Every movement as it wiggled deliciously inside her. The heel of Tommy’s hand brushed her clit and her mind was returned to one in a searing flash of white-hot pleasure.

Tommy held still, but Andrea’s hips were doing all the work now, riding her hand in a flurry of short jerks and jabs. Her head had fallen on her chest and the long ash hung precariously from the cigarette filter. Tommy was whispering in her ear, but Andrea had no idea what the butch was saying. The words were a buzz, a minor irritant on the sea of building euphoria. Powerful sensations rocked her small frame as the tension in her back built to an unbearable knot.

Inner muscles clamped down on the invading finger. That minor contraction presaged a massive one, in which it felt like every muscle in her body spasm’d. Her breath came in gasps and small squeaks, and each successive contraction, although less powerful, produced waves of pleasure her mind wasn’t able to cope with.

The ash fell to her lap, scattering a fine grey dust on the inside of her skirt.

Tommy moved quickly after Andrea stopped shuddering in her lap. She pulled her skirt down, refastened the buttons on her jacket, and had the belt done before the small woman emitted a soft and inquiring moan.

“Come on, angel puss, off my lap” Tommy whispered urgently.

When it became apparent Andrea wasn’t responding, Tommy bodily moved her to the seat next to herself and leaned her against the window. Andrea was still floating in the afterglow when she felt Tommy buttoning her tunic over her open blouse. The urgency began to penetrate and she was just able to drop her head to her chest and feign sleep when the whistle shrilled. The few passengers were startled from their sleep, and if any noticed the cute WASP had moved, they gave no sign.

Only the grizzled Marine gave Tommy a wink, as she sucked her glistening finger into her mouth.


The landscape moved by with monotonous regularity. An occasional town and even more infrequent stops were the only breaks. Tommy dozed next to Andrea, but since their interlude, the train had begun to fill. The two WASPs were both attractive, so the seats near them filled first.

Two soldiers sat across from them, in the seat Andrea had originally occupied. They too were dozing, after numerous attempts at conversation with the two pretty girls had failed. A card game was going on further back, but the players were quiet. The civilians had gotten off, she couldn’t remember when or where, and the car was uniformly military personnel now.

Andrea was startled to feel a strong hand grasp her knee. She turned quickly and before she could grasp what was happening Tommy pressed her lips to hers. A quick peck, nothing more. Tommy pulled back as Andrea’s quick movement seemed to rouse one of the soldiers. He faded back to sleep and they were left in relative quiet.

“Well, angel-puss, we’re almost there,” Tommy said in a near whisper.

“How can you tell?’ Andrea asked.

“I’ve taken this ride a hundred times, I know.”

“Are you headed for Mines?”

“No, El Segundo.”


“Can’t tell ya, angel-puss. I really would if I could, but it’s hush-hush. I… um… I’d like to see you again, sometime,” Tommy said.

Andrea blushed and looked away, but after a moment, she looked back.

“I’d like that. I really would,” she said quietly.

At the station, they both lingered until the car was empty, and exchanged a quick kiss. Andrea parted ways with the dashing woman at the entrance to Mines, Tommy taking the cab they had shared on to El Segundo alone.

She found her group was still at the field and joined them in the barracks. There were questions asked and stories told, but everyone seemed happy to have her back, and she felt very good to be back. Late that night, in the dark, she thought of Tommy Andover. Her big, sure hands, their gentle caresses, the calm confidence she exuded. Andrea had no idea, but she would never spend another night without the dark-haired flier filling her dreams.


Andrea and her group had made five cross-country trips since she had last seen Tommy. She was sitting on her bunk with the rest of her friends when a tall MP came into their barracks, threading his way to her bunk.

“Are you Campbell?” he asked.

“Yes,” Andrea replied, suddenly worrying. They didn’t see many MPs.

“Could you come with me please?”

“What’s this about?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, miss.”

Andrea nodded, donned her tunic, and followed the MP. All the hubbub of conversation died as her friends watched her leave. The MP had a jeep and escorted her to the Base Commander’s office. He was there, looking aggravated. A small man in civilian attire sat behind his desk.

“I’ll leave you,” the commander said through clenched teeth. As soon as he was gone, the short man rose.

“How you girls deal with asses like that is quite beyond me,” he said by way of greeting. His baldhead reflected the light and his face was grave, but the eyes danced mischievously and Andrea immediately liked him.

“I’m John Tylor, Special Representative for Franklin Roosevelt,” he said, extending his hand. Andrea took it and smiled tentatively.


“Andrea Campbell, yes, I know you well, at least through your official dossier. No need to worry, you aren’t in any trouble. I have a top-secret mission going on, one that has clearance from the very top. You’ve been selected on the recommendation of another pilot. I can’t tell you anything about it, except that it’s very dangerous.”

“And?” Andrea asked in confusion.

“Pardon me, I’m used to the cloak and dagger stuff,” he said smiling again.

“We would like you to volunteer.”

Andrea considered that. Volunteering for a mission they couldn’t tell you about? It sounded like something dangerous.

“Can’t you tell me anything?”

“I’m afraid not. Well, not much. I can tell you it involves ferrying some special planes and that it’s dangerous in the extreme. Beyond that, you will have to decide blind. If you agree I can tell you more, if not, I’ll send you back to your barracks and ask only that you don’t tell a single soul about this.”

“I wouldn’t have much to tell them, now, would I?” she asked with a smile.

“No,” he replied smiling back, “I guess you wouldn’t at that.”

She pondered a few moments. While patriotism had not been the prime motivator in her joining, she had become very patriotic and loved the WASPs. A super secret, dangerous mission might be her death, but if not, it would surely help her after the war, when the country would invariably cut the military to the bone. She saw home in her head and that disturbing flash decided for her.

“All right,” she said. “I’m in.”

“Excellent. Let’s get out of here, I’ll brief you on the way over,” he said, grabbing his coat.

“Do I need to get my things?” she asked.

“No, no, I’ll have it taken care of.”

They walked out and he held the door to a dark sedan for her, and once she was seated in the back, he joined the driver in the front and they were soon past the gates. It was only after they were away that he turned to her.

“You have heard, I presume, of the B-29?”

“Yes, I’ve see them on the news reels.”

“Ever think of flying one?”

“No, not really.”

“Well, you are going to have to learn and fast. One of our crewmembers is in a family way now, and we needed a replacement. Tommy suggested you, and though her reasons weren’t given, your dossier is exemplary,” he said.

Andrea’s eyes lit up at her name and the man smiled softly.

“I thought as much. Please, don’t be embarrassed. I couldn’t care less who you’re seeing. I only care that you can do the job. We have fifteen crews, all drawn from the WASPs, and fifteen planes that have to get to their destination. While I can’t tell you where you are going, I can tell you it’s in the war zone. You girls will be the first U.S. women aviators to fly in a combat area.”

Andrea was shocked to hear that. Thrilled, but shocked nonetheless.

“Good. You have the right look about you. Not that I was worried, but you never know.”


Andrea was dead tired, and her whole body ached. Ten-hour training flights had toughened her up considerably, and since she was playing catch-up, she was making them almost daily. She hadn’t seen Tommy yet. All the girls rotated back to make delivery hops, thus appearing to still be doing their regular ferrying missions.

Hitler had been defeated, and the Marines were gearing up to invade Japan. They had all been shocked and saddened when the news of FDR’s passing came over the Armed Forces Radio. They all fretted that the new president would decide not to continue their mission, whatever it was.

She struggled into her clothes and turned out with the rest of the crews for chow. After eating, they were all summoned to the big Quonset hut that functioned as their ready room.

Mr. Tylor, whom she hadn’t seen since she arrived, was there. As she sat, a hand closed on her shoulder. Andrea looked up into Tommy’s wild eyes, but there was no time for catching up. Tylor waited until they were all seated before getting up and calling them to order.

“It’s been several months of hardship and rigor for you all. Obviously, you have figured out you will be ferrying planes. Just as obviously, you must have deduced from the over-water navigation exercises that you will be taking them to an island in the Pacific. I can tell you now that island is Guam, after a refueling stop in Hawaii and another at Kwajalein. The fifteen planes you will be ferrying over belong to the 509th Composite Group and will be arriving here this evening. They are modified designs, but not significantly different from those you have been training on. I want you all to turn back in and get some sleep after this briefing.”

He let the hubbub of voices die before he continued.

“I can’t tell you why all the secrecy is involved in what seems like a simple transfer. I can tell you that concern about the secrecy was so important that the president himself signed off on this mission and the new president agreed. You will fly out tomorrow morning at O-one-fifty. A gap in the costal defense has been arranged that will be open from O-one-fifty to O-two-thirty. It is absolutely vital that you be over open sea when the diverted ships return to their patrol routes.”

Tylor moved to a huge map and picked up a pointer.

“You will arrive at Hickam Field on the island of Oahu. There, your planes will be refueled. You are not to leave your planes, nor are you to remove your headgear or speak to anyone. If you have mechanical trouble, make sure only the pilot speaks to the tower. There will be a man on the ground who is in the know.”

He then tapped a small dot of green in the vast field of blue.

“From there you will fly to Kwajalein, then on to Guam. Once you touch down, you will move your planes to the end of the runway and all of you will quickly debark and get into the transport provided. You will receive instructions from there on getting back to the States.”

He put the pointer down and looked out at them.

“I cannot stress how vital this mission is. The lives of millions of men may literally rest with you. Good luck.”


Andrea waited tensely in the copilot’s seat, as a line of men cranked the huge propellers. She was in a full flight suit, with her hair up and her head covered with a leather cap and goggles. Tommy was in the pilot’s seat, the window down and a Pall Mall dangling from her lips. In her flight suit, with the cap and goggles there was no way to know you were looking at an attractive woman, Andrea mused.

They hadn’t been able to see each other, or even hug after the meeting, as the officers hustled them all back to their barracks, and because she knew it was going to be a desperately long flight, she had forced herself to relax. Now she was here, the adrenaline rush of starting this mission mixing with the hormone rush of having Tommy near her again.

The engines coughed and spluttered, then slowly came to life as Tommy expertly coaxed them. Even on the ground, with the RPMs low, the drone was something to hear. The navigator keyed her mike.

“Just got the word. It’s a go, Tommy. Tower will be on any sec,” she said.

“Roger,” Tommy laconically replied.

“Azure Angel, this is Tower. You are cleared for take off,” a clipped voice called.

Tommy eased the throttle forward and the huge bomber began to roll. She was fully loaded with fuel, and it took most of the immensely long runway to gain enough speed to lift off. Tommy and Andrea both eased back on the control yolk, and the huge plane nosed into the air. They took their time, circling as they climbed to thirty thousand feet, near the plane’s operation ceiling. When the others had formed up, Tommy eased the throttle up to their cruising speed of 190 knots and pointed the big plane towards the ocean.

There were some tense minutes, as the planes rumbled out over the coast. At any moment, Andrea expected the shore batteries to open up, or scrambled fighters to attack, but only the dark, cold night greeted them. When Sally called out that they were at their first way point, Tommy banked the big plane onto the new azimuth, and Andrea relaxed her white knuckled grip on the steering column.

Beth, the fourth member of the crew, came forward shortly afterward with hot coffee. She was a short woman of medium build with plain features and greenish eyes. Andrea had flown with her before, during her training.

“Have Sally get me one more navigational check, and you two can dope off,” Tommy said. Beth giggled and nodded before disappearing. Andrea had never seen the woman smile.

“What was that about?” Andrea asked Tommy.

“Nothing,” she said too quickly.

Andrea let it pass and watched the dark sea, occasionally checking the instruments. Tommy slowly brought the big plane down towards the deck. She didn’t stop the gentle descent until the altimeter showed they were no more than five hundred feet above the ocean.


“Relax, angel-puss. This mission is top-secret; the only way to avoid the radar pickets is to fly low. Am I making you nervous?” she added with a sexy grin.

Andrea blushed and returned her eyes to the instruments, remembering the last time she had heard those words from her. The sun was well up and off the horizon, when Shelly and Beth came up behind them, giggling like schoolgirls.

“We’ll take over, if you two want to try the amenities,” Beth said.

Neither girl was even close to fully dressed and, she looked to Tommy in her confusion.

“Come on, Angel, I’ll show you around. Stretch your legs some,” she said as she got out of the pilot’s chair and Shelly took over.

“Spread your legs, she means,” Beth cackled.

Beth climbed into the co-pilot’s seat and hooked her radio into the intercom. Tommy guided Andrea back to the end of the pressurized cabin, and helped her into the long tunnel that traversed both bomb bays and ended in the compartment where the waist gunners would normally ride.

The compartment wasn’t very large, but a cot had been set up. Several articles of clothing lay on the deck near it and a faint, musky smell permeated the air. The plane hit a spot of turbulence, bounced, and Andrea looked fearfully towards the front of the plane. Tommy’s long arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back against the butch’s hard body.

“Relax, baby, I handpicked this crew. Shelly and Beth have more air hours logged than I do. I knew it was a long flight, so I smuggled a cot onboard…” she whispered.

“So, you brought me back here to…” her voice trailed off into a whisper.

“No, angel-puss. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was hoping, but there’s no pressure on you. If you don’t want to, you can still catch some sleep. I’ll be happy either way.”

Andrea bit her lip as she thought. She had been dying to get physical with Tommy for months, and she still tingled when she remembered their few stolen moments on the train. She might have demurred, but Tommy’s strong arms around her waist felt too good. Still, she was too shy to say yes.

Tommy seemed to understand, gently squeezing her and nuzzling her neck. Andrea made a sound, part sigh, part moan, total surrender. Tommy’s hands slid up her body to the nape of her neck and then worked slowly down, opening her flight suit. Andrea turned in Tommy’s arms and they kissed deeply as their hands worked the many fastenings.

The kiss was deep and hot, their tongues twining and pressing against each other as their passion built. Andrea was going crazy, her hands shaking as she plucked at Tommy’s fight suit. The experienced butch continued to kiss her, enjoying the heat of her body and the urgency in her kisses. She deliberately slowed her pace, allowing Andrea to remove her clothes while she let her arms slide around the redhead and massage her soft ass.

Andrea felt hot and flushed, but she couldn’t make herself break the kiss. She was caught up in a whirlwind of emotion, and the driving need she felt added to the maelstrom. Andrea felt Tommy’s hands move up her back to her shoulders, and the stocky butch broke the kiss, pushing Andrea back a step.

She put her hands on her hips and caught the redhead’s eyes.

“Like what you see?”

Andrea’s mouth hung open and a slight tremor ran through her. Tommy’s suit was still bunched on the floor, but she had spread her legs and had one hand on her hip. Her legs were muscular, leading up to wide hips. Her black pubes were wild, thick and covered her pussy, but Andrea could just make out the deep crimson of her lips peeking out. Her tummy was flat, with the abs well defined and they drew her eyes upwards, to the proud breasts. These were full, capped with dusky, silver dollar sized aureoles and thick, protruding nipples. Her shoulders were square, and her arms well muscled.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Tommy said, laughing as she kicked out of the pile of clothes at her feet.

“My god,” Andrea finally whispered.

“You look pretty good too.”

Tommy finished stripping her quickly, with Andrea helping where she could. The butch stooped quickly, her arm sliding behind Andrea’s knees and picking her up. She set the smaller girl gently on the cot and settled on top of her.

Andrea gasped. Tommy’s skin was soft, silky smooth and so warm. Her nipples pressed into the undersides of Andrea’s breasts as their lips sought each other’s. Andrea moaned into her lover’s mouth, as Tommy’s strong fingers traced up her ribcage, skirted her breasts and cupped her face. Tommy seemed in no hurry, kissing her deeply and thoroughly, her active tongue seeming to find every contour of Andrea’s mouth.

Andrea didn’t know what to do with her hands, eventually wrapping them loosely around Tommy’s shoulders. Tommy was still kissing her, but breaking the deep kisses to nip her lips or lick them. Andrea felt like a bottle of champagne, being shaken and shaken, the pressure building inside until the cork had to give.

Suddenly Tommy’s lips were gone, and Andrea gasped. Before she knew what was happening she felt the dark haired girl licking down her neck, while her strong fingers cupped Andrea’s breasts. She arched her back and whimpered as the fingers found her stiff nipples and began to roll them. Tommy’s mouth continued past her breasts and down her tummy.

“Oh!” Andrea exclaimed, as the butch’s tongue threaded through her pubes and grazed her wet lips. Liquid fire poured through her veins, as Tommy’s tongue caressed her lips, pushing between them and circling her clit.

The sensation was too much. Powerful shocks wracked her petite frame with each tug on her nipples, and massive shivers of pleasure shot up her spine with each swipe of Tommy’s tongue over her clit. She twisted and writhed, totally lost in sensation, her body beyond her control. Andrea’s mind was flooded with waves of stark pleasure, and the sensation building deep within her tightened like a serpent coiling around her spine.

Her hips were undulating, jerking with each swipe of Tommy’s silken sandpaper tongue, sending ragged jolts of pleasure that we so intense they were indistinguishable from agony, but the sweetest agony she had ever known. With frightening suddenness, her body convulsed, and she felt an intense spike of heat and pure bliss blossom in her pussy and tear outward, deluging all in its path. She saw red, felt pleasure that was beyond her comprehension, and heard a wailing, keening cry, that reverberated around the small cabin.

No time, no coherent stream of thought, just blast upon blast of euphoria. At some point, she realized the groans and cries she was hearing were her own. Her body slowly ceased its thrashing, and she began to get control of her limbs again. She still twitched, and tremors still shot through her at intermittent intervals. She was cold, her skin covered in goose bumps, and Tommy was helping her to rise.

“Come on, girl, we’ll have to continue this later,” Tommy whispered urgently.


When they sat the big plane down on Hickam Field, they taxied to a remote corner. Fuel trucks pulled up, along with a convoy of armed guards. They didn’t leave the cockpit, and Tommy was the only one to communicate with the tower. The hop to Kwajelain was boring, and they slept on the field for a few hours, timing their arrival at Guam to be well after dark. The final hop was made at near the plane’s operational ceiling.

Once they landed on Guam, they taxied to a deserted corner of the field and all crews exited the planes. There were ambulances there, and Tommy helped Andrea into the back of one. As soon as they started trolling, she stood up and shrugged out of her Jacket.

“Hurry it up, girls. Get out of those flight suits and into the uniforms you’ll find in the duffels under your seats.”

Andrea was embarrassed, but quickly joined the others in the impromptu strip, as the ambulance bounced along. As soon as she was naked, Andrea opened the duffle at her feet and stared. Tommy grabbed her and pulled her close.

“Hurry up, babe. I picked yours out myself,” the stocky girl said with a grin, and kissed her quickly before beginning to slither into her own uniform.


Onboard the Hospital Ship Mercy, the “nurses” were quarantined in private cabins in the rear part of the ship. As far as the crew knew, they were all nurses who had contracted a rare tropical disease on Okinawa. Tommy was watching out the porthole as the dark mass of the island passed away, and the moon broke through the clouds, lighting the waves.

She closed it and turned suddenly, smiling that impish grin that Andrea had first seen on the long train ride.

“You look edible,” she said after a long pause.

“I noticed my underwear is a bit… skimpier than everyone else’s,” Andrea said, blushing.

“Well, it’s a two-month trip back to Pearl, then on to San Francisco. We’re confined to quarters, and I figured I should do all I could to improve the view.”

She spoke so seriously, so deadpan, that Andrea had to wait a moment, unsure if she was serious or not. When she cracked a smile, Andrea blushed and lowered her eyes.

“Well, since I went to the trouble, gonna give me a look?”

Andrea hesitantly unbuttoned the white uniform, and let it fall to the floor. She was nervous, but Tommy’s sharp intake of breath thrilled her. Her breasts were bare and she wore only silk bloomers, with a garter belt and nylons. When she looked up, Tommy was coming out of her uniform like it was on fire.

Andrea reached up to unpin her hat, but Andrea bounded up and caught her hand.

“Keep it on?”

“If you like,” she replied, blushing even more deeply.

She felt Tommy’s fingers slide into her bloomers, tugging them down. Andrea reacted swiftly, catching her hands.

The stocky butch looked into her eyes and cocked her head.

“You’ve… well, you made me feel so good. I want to make you feel good,” Andrea whispered, looking at the floor.

Tommy laughed and gently raised Andrea’s face.

“Angel, have you ever been with another woman?”

“Only you.”

“It takes some time and practice to get good at it, just like flying. I’m not really all that concerned with it. I mean, it’s great, but I prefer to make my girl feel good.”

“But I want to make you feel good!”

“You do, babe, and you will, but we’ve got a long time for you to learn. Tonight I just want to fuck you.”


“Just hop on the bed and lie back, angel.”

Andrea moved to one of the two beds and climbed up onto it. She rolled over onto her back and looked up.

Tommy smiled and took the pillow off her bed, and then approached.

“Raise your hips, babe.”

Andrea pulled her feet up and planted them on the bed, raising her back and ass. Tommy placed the pillow beneath her bottom, and tugged it a few times after she relaxed, until she was satisfied. She then crawled between Andrea’s spread legs and kissed her inner thigh.

“But I thought…”

“Shh, just relax, angel, getting you ready,” Tommy interrupted.

Andrea tried, but Tommy’s firm hands caressing her hips seemed to tighten the knot of desire in her tummy, and her soft lips sent shivers up her spine. She was tired from the long flight, but her body responded quickly, as memories of their lovemaking added to the fire in her pussy.

Tommy wasn’t doing it like Andrea expected. She concentrated her attention on Andrea’s outer lips, while slipping a finger into her tight passage. The stocky butch gently frigged her, making sure her lips and mound were slick. She would occasionally pull her fingers out, and smear Andrea’s juices over her lips and mound. It was a slow, almost torturous teasing, that seemed designed to drive her mad, and soon Andrea’s hips began to buck, pressing up to get more contact with Tommy’s body.

Tommy chuckled and, using two fingers to pry Andrea’s lips apart, she pulled her finger out and quickly rubbed it over the redhead’s clit. Andrea felt her entire body clench and she moaned, her hands finding her breasts and massaging them.

Tommy returned to fingering her, in that same deliberate way, neither exceptionally fast nor too slow, twisting her fingers as they plunged in and withdrew. Andrea was beside herself, and soon her hands slid down her body, shamelessly massaging her hot spot. She could feel it building, and her fingers zeroed in on her throbbing clit, but as she neared the edge, Tommy caught her hands and pulled them away.

Andrea surprised herself, snorting in frustration and actually struggling to free her hands. Tommy held them firm and brought her knees up under her.

“Relax, angel,” she cooed.

When Andre did, Tommy released her wrists and moved her arm back, sliding it under Andrea’s knee.

She then slowly lay forward, drawing the slight girl’s leg up, until it was pressed against her breast, and locked there by Tommy’s arm, which now rested on the bed and supported her weight. The butch’s hips came to rest on Andrea’s, and with a small shifting of her body, she found the spot she wanted and lowered her body to kiss the redhead.

Her mouth was warm and demanding, and Andrea relaxed totally, parting her lips and sucking on the butch’s tongue as it probed her mouth.

“Spread your legs more,” she gently encouraged after she broke the kiss.

Andrea complied as best she could, pushing her leg open and in the process rolling her hips slightly as her pinned leg could not move. She gasped when Tommy shifted her body slightly and her dark pubes meshed with Andrea’s.

“There we go,” Tommy said in triumph.

She jogged her hips experimentally, and Andrea giggled as Tommy’s pubes tickled her sensitive lips. The dark-haired girl was smiling down on her, and slowly increased her tempo, adding a slightly plunging motion that brought her mound tightly against Andrea’s on each down-stroke. At first, it didn’t feel all that good, and Andrea was slightly disappointed. After a short while, though, their juices commingled, and both of their sexes were damp.

That’s when she first noticed it, a kind of delicious friction that had been overshadowed at first.


“Hang on, angel, it only gets better,” Tommy panted, as drops of sweat fell off her brow and joined the sheen coating Andrea’s breasts.

The cabin was suddenly very stuffy.

“Is it… Oh! …Is it hot in here?” Andrea managed.

“Yeah. Boiler room is on the other side of that bulkhead,” Tommy said, indicating it with a jerk of her head.

In all honesty, Andrea barely heard the answer. She hadn’t expected one, really; the question was as much one of those little inane things a girl might say before she really lost herself in the sensations. Tommy’s hips were in the right place now, keeping her own sex pressed tightly against Andrea’s for the entire length of her gyrations. The friction was building, increasing the heat she felt and the sparks of pleasure.

Tommy’s eyes were closed, and her face was locked in a grimace as she increased the pace even more. Andrea gasped when Tommy’s pubic bone pressed hard on her pussy, opening her lips even more. The dark-headed girl’s outer lips were pressed between Andrea’s, and each movement caused those incredibly soft silky lips to glide over her inner labia and brush her clit.

Andrea arched her back and groaned, the sound unnaturally loud in the small cabin. It felt too good, just too good to bear, and she was torn between a desperate desire to break the contact and an equally strong desire to somehow make it stronger and less fleeting. With her leg pinned, though, she was unable to do more than raise her hips by arching her back.

She felt the pressure building, a coil of tension in her lower back that seemed to be getting less bearable with each second that passed. Despite the futility, she couldn’t help trying, and soon her grunts and moans mingled, as the delightful friction soared to new heights.

An orgasm washed over her unexpectedly, and it was unlike any she had ever experienced. Her orgasms had always been violent affairs, but this one was sweet, almost gentle. Her body didn’t convulse, even her inner muscles seemed to be merely undulating rather than the strong contractions she was used to. It felt almost like the aftershocks she often experienced after she came. As good as it felt, it only left her wanting more, and still the delicious friction continued to drive her towards something else. Something she knew instinctively would be new.

Tommy was crying out, barking her pleasure with every thrust of her stout hips. The cabin smelled of sex. The friction was agony, so pleasurable it almost hurt; she could see only Tommy and hear only their moans and groans. For the first time in her life, Andrea was totally lost in the lovemaking, all of her senses filled with Tommy.

Her nipples were so stiff they ached, and her hips also ached from her constant straining, but it didn’t matter. She was about to cum as she had never cum, and in the split second before the dam broke loose, she knew it.

In a blinding instant, her pussy became molten, the fire from it spreading through her veins as if her very blood was ablaze. Her fingers clutched at Tommy’s arms, her nails drawing blood. A ragged scream was torn from her throat as soul shattering pleasure overran her mind’s defenses. She was lost for an indeterminable amount of time, wandering a pink landscape that changed every second. The intense euphoria seemed never ending, and the world collapsed to just her wildly firing nerves and her deluged mind.

When she regained some semblance of rationality, she found Tommy was opening the second of two portholes. She hurried back to the bed and gathered Andrea up in her arms. Her face was awash with concern as she gently patted Andrea’s cheeks.

“Angel? Please wake up, baby, you’re scaring me.”

Andrea tried to speak, but no sound would come as she gaped like a fish.

“Please, Angel,” Tommy cried, her voice now betraying her anguish.

“I’m all right,” she squeaked.

Tommy sighed deeply and hugged her fiercely.

“Damn, girl, you scared the hell out of me. I thought I’d killed ya.”

“No,” Andrea mouthed, shaking her head.

She feebly held onto Tommy, as the stocky girl gently rocked her.


By the time they landed in San Francisco, they all were sick of the ship. After a short liberty, they were all back to their regular ferrying missions. When news of the atomic bomb falling on Hiroshima was quickly followed by news of another at Nagasaki, and then victory in Japan, they celebrated quietly together in a small bar outside of El Segundo.

The military decided to disband the WASPs and, in a short time, they all returned to civilian life. Tommy and Andrea opened their own business, flying cargo and passengers between New York and L.A. They lived a long and happy life together, and like the rest of their compatriots, they never mentioned the secret mission.

History was rewritten, and their contribution was covered up, but always they knew. How could they not, seeing the name of their B-29 on that long ago day was now a household word: Enola Gay.

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