“What the hell is that?” Angie grumbled as an updraft jolted her Cessna. She grabbed her binoculars from her knapsack and stripped the newspapers off her windscreen.
Fighting to control the plane and focus at the same time, she cursed as she shook her dark hair from her eyes. ‘I gotta get this cut one of these days,’ she lied to herself again. Angie knew how the men watched her and she knew what turned them on. It had been that way since high school. She’d liked it then, too. ‘But sometimes being a woman’s a real pain,’ she sighed. ‘Like now.’ She swept her hair back again, cursed her vanity and concentrated on the stone peaks bursting from the forest floor. Cradling a creamy white glacier in the their rocky palm, the mountains held an ocean of ice and snow high above the tropical island’s dense jungle. She scanned the surface, glowing white gold in the rising sun, as the shadow of her Cessna slid across its undulations.
–by R. E. Dinlocker, from The Missionary Position
(promoted by Substance Books – Online Book Publicity Services)
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