I was called by dispatch to get to the airport ASAP. VIP flight to secret location.
When I arrived, the maintenance guys were unusually excited, prepping the 402 for departure.
“The left engine is gonna need oil when you arrive. Extra quarts in your nacelles.”
I saw strange cars in the hanger parking lot. I made my way to the office to get the details.
It hit me like a tonne of bricks. My entire person inundated with gardinias and pine, the scent of a woman.
I opened the door. Three sun dresses greeted me.
I was to take the women to a special island, the approach would be difficult. Thereafter, I was to stay with them, and fly back when they were ready to leave.
The next scene, I’m riding in the bow of a shiny Chris Craft, my feet up on the gunwales, whistling Dixie.
The ladies all smiling, fresh breeze like exotic oils from expensive apothecary.
I am king. I am master.
The women steer the boat. They know where to take me.
This is how the escape was made.
From Hell World Nightmare Prison Planet.
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