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| - Published in StoryStar 2014 ‘So what is it this time, Opium or Cocaine?’ Sanchez span round in the seat of the small light aircraft that he was piloting causing it to wobble alarmingly ‘How did you get in here? This is my property woman. Your intrusive search at San Marcos was more than enough to..’ ‘Oh please’ interrupted Madam D’Ville sweetly ‘Don’t come the injured innocent victim with me’ She lit herself a cigarette by striking a match on the no smoking sign ‘If I were an officer of the law, which as we all know I am far from, I would be arresting you right now’ Sanchez’ hand had rested on the large wrought iron wrench that was nestled under the control panel of the cockpit and looked up at the woman that had stowed away on his plane. She was a sight for any red-blooded man to see and the Latin-American blood that coursed its way through the veins of Sanchez was redder than most. Madam D’Ville had dark red wavy hair that stopped at her shoulders and she seemed to protrude in places that should not have legally been allowed. Her choice of clothing left nothing to the imagination and was aided by a red silk corset that formed a waist that was not of its own creation. Balanced on top of this thin veil of silk, lace and bone were two very interesting points of view that had been pushed up and out giving the impression that she would have been much taller lying down than she was standing up. The length of her skirt was another story altogether, and a very short one at that. Heels, that required expert attention to gravity, substituted the lack of height that would have hampered most women, but not Ms D’Ville, as the advantage she gained from people looking down on her and into a balancing act that defied logic gave her a tactical advantage when she was in need of doing something unspeakable to whoever had been disadvantaged by the dizzying fall her cleavage appeared to create. An experience usually only felt by skydivers and those with vertigo. ‘For what?’ he sneered ‘You have been on my case for six months and have found nothing’ Madam D’Ville smiled, ‘What I did find, at the back of the cargo area' she said sitting herself down in the co-pilots seat 'was a parachute which I unfortunately threw out before we took off in able for me to squeeze my ample, and extremely sexy, if I do say so myself, body into the same very small hole' Sanchez looked over his shoulder and saw the hole that once contained his only means of escape. 'This was no easy feat' she continued 'as hiding myself from men is not something that comes naturally. It has, however, created a problem for you in the ‘how do I escape from The D’Ville woman’ scenario, so I would look out of the window and concentrate on flying straight if I were you and I will find out for myself what you are up to when we land' She adjusted herself into a more comfortable position and blew Sanchez a kiss. Sanchez sat and listened whilst he contemplated the limited options available to him and seeing no way out turned and swung the wrench at Ms D’Villes head. This action made the plane veer violently to the right causing her to adjust her position. Years of weight to balance ratios caused by high heels and an ample bosom stood her in good stead as she maintained her position leaning only slightly to avoid the attack... ..High on a mountain outcrop Madam D’Ville held her hands out to the open fire and looked behind her at the wreckage of the plane. ‘Nice flying’ she said to Sanchez ‘For all the good it did us’ he sniffed ‘if the cold doesn't get us, the locals will, and I prey for your sake it's the cold’. Ms D’Ville looked back at Sanchez whose face was showing his age caused by the illumination of the fire and the harrowing landing. ‘Go on then’ she said ‘You have nothing to loose now’ Sanchez arched a questioning eyebrow. ‘Come on, there is only you and me here' she placed her hands on the ground behind her and leant back letting her hair fall over one eye as she looked seductively at Sanchez through the curtain of red 'You have been flying a private light aircraft out of San Marcos every week for the past six months, and every time your bank account shows a healthy deposit of cash. Every search has come up with nothing, so my question to you my darling is this, what have you been smuggling for the past six months?’ Sanchez looked around at his hopeless situation and then back at the woman who was disarming without ever being armed and sighed.
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