Chapter Seventeen

 

Jordan approached the entrance to the training center building and walked up the two concrete steps that led to a simple glass and chrome door. He noticed a small sign above the door.

 

Consolidated Airlines Flight Training Center

A division of AFT Enterprises

 

He opened the door and approached the security guard seated behind a small desk that represented the only furniture occupying the reception area to the massive training center building. He was somewhat taken aback at the contrast between the size of the building and the minuscule area dedicated to the entrance. Unlike most foyers to a substantial building of a large corporation, there definitely appeared to be no attempt to make an impression on those that entered this building as to the importance of the activities that took place within. It actually reminded Jordan of the shipping dock area of a large retail store that one drove around to the back of in order to pick up a TV or piece of yard furniture. He almost felt like handing the guard a receipt and stating, “I just bought the fifty-four inch HDTV. Could you have one of the stock boys put it in the back of my car?”

Instead, he introduced himself to the security guard. “I’m Jordan Scott. I have an appointment with Captain Mansell.”

“I’ll call her office,” the guard replied in a bored tone. He dialed the four-digit extension for Gail’s office. “Captain Mansell, it’s Ben. There’s a Mr. Jordan Scott here to see you.” After a short delay he announced to Jordan, “She’ll be right out.”

Jordan looked around for a chair to sit in while waiting, and finding none, leaned against the wall by the entry door. A short time later Jordan observed a woman opening the door behind the guard’s desk which he assumed led to the inner sanctum of the training center. Her physical stature was so stunning that it initially startled Jordan.

“Hey Ben.” She greeted the security guard in a clearly detectable Southern drawl, the kind that lingers softly on the ear, as she walked toward Jordan.

Jordan continued to be in awe of her appearance as she approached. She was tall, at least five-ten, and perhaps six-feet. She wore dark pleated trousers which hung very loosely from her narrow hips. The cuffed trousers had a slight break in them as they came to rest on the stylishly pointed toes of what appeared to be rather expensive high-heeled leather shoes. Jordan attempted to quickly avert his stare from her shoes back to the eyes of this woman as she moved past the guard, but could not help but notice her well-endowed chest concealed within a rather tight-fitting button down shirt. He had to force himself to continue to move his eyes upward to make direct contact with hers.

They were green. Not a pale green, but a deep rich emerald green unlike any feminine eyes he had ever encountered before. They were perfectly set like two jewels in facial features that, although just beginning to show the tell tale signs of aging by subtle wrinkling about the eyes and mouth, were cherub like with a small upturned nose, prominent rounded cheeks, and very full lips.

The skin on her face was blemish free, and reminded Jordan of the pale brown chocolate yogurt he purchased at the convenience store along with a morning paper on his way to work each day. Her dark brown hair, although pulled back starkly into a bun at the nape of her neck, nonetheless revealed a rather coarse texture that Jordan surmised indicated she was perhaps partially of African American ancestry.

As she approached, Jordan stopped leaning on the wall and walked towards perhaps the most stunning woman he had ever encountered in his life.

“Mr. Scott, Gail Mansell.” Her drawl expanded his last name to a two syllable word as she confidently extended her hand.

“Jordan, Jordan Scott.” He tried to regain his composure as he continued to be awestruck by her physical presence.

“Thank you for commin’ by,” she said as she made a forceful effort to extricate her hand from Jordan’s rather prolonged grasp.

Suddenly aware of this faux paux , he quickly withdrew his hand. “Your pleasure, I mean, my welcome, uh . . . thanks for your time today.”

“Well, why don’t we move into my office, and discuss whatever it is that

Slick . . . I mean Willie Wilcox wanted me to discuss with you.” She turned and walked back toward the door from which she had entered.

Jordan could not help but continue his infatuation with Gail as she walked away.

“Damn, she looks as good going as she does coming”, he thought as she opened the door, and motioned Jordan to step inside.

“Be my guest,” she said, her eyes locking on to his. She could have been gesturing to the gates of Hell and Jordan would have gladly entered.