It is short for Svetlana. I speak seven languages. I grew up in the Ukraine. Or it was the Ukraine. Now, I don’t know what it is. My family is ...dead. Friends tell me not to come back. They say I will also be killed. No nation wanted me. Fats took me in when I fled the cruise liner. They were going to send me back when we made port in Miami. They said I had to go back because my Visa was going to expire. So I chose here.I sat there stunned. I do not remember what I thought had. He was quiet smartly dressed in a black flight bomber jacket, white shirt and tie, black trousers and boots. He was about 6 foot tall, his jacket was open and his large belly hung over his belt. Age wise i would say he'd be in his forties, soft round face with a pencil moustache that to me made him look quiet handsome.He asked me if I had anywhere to go, I nodded yes and said see you out side. We met outside and spoke for a couple of minutes out of site of the main road. I told him we could go. Lucas, my security man, waited patiently on the ground for us to return from the lesson. He’d also been sworn to secrecy about my insipient hobby.We did a lot in the lesson, and then even practiced some touch and go landings at Air Ranch, a standard practice possible because the runways were adequately long.After we stopped, I got my first dose of ground school that included a drink from a fire hose about all the different kinds of air space around the country, including the Class A inverted. I went close to her and kissed her with lust and love. While doing that I let my hand inside her blouse to feel her boobs. She was more aggressive than I was and she quickly unhooked her blouse to make me see things which I can’t resist. She then started pressing my hands hard against her boobs and using her other hand she made me lie on boobs. It was such a nice feeling but I know I had to calm her down for me to enjoy the sex. So I stood tall again and kissed her on her lips while I unhooked.