"Robertson-WendyDarling" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robertson R Garcia Y)

"Folks in the East End aim to bring back the rack and buming irons."

"We'd give him dinner and bubbly, treat him to a concert, then pack him off to a
prison camp. Because there is no enemy more barbaric than the bloody Royal
Flying Corps." The band played "Tipperary" in the background. This lost boy's
hands had gotten inside her wrap, one in the small of her back, the other
working down her spine, pulling her closer.

"So you have no scruples?"

"Gawd, I hope not. Can't afford 'em in my line of work. Not if yew plan ta die
of brandy an' old age."

With their lips about to touch, she whispered, "Promise to take me flying."

"Impossible." He pulled back, looking askance.

"Why?"

"An SE has only one seat." Ryan nodded at the plane, silhouetted by the
bandstand.

"There are plenty of other types." Wendy was heartless. Paris might be one big
knocking-ship, with Red Cross nurses handing out condoms in the rail
stations--but decent opinion expected Ryan to die without ever fucking a real
English virgin. Besides, she knew she would get nowhere by being the
accommodating doormat. "What if I told you I had already flown beyond the stars
?"

He frowned. "I'd say you had wandered. Gone with the Faeries. I'd get in trouble
-- rules forbid taking female mental cases up for a fling."

She leaned closer, letting one hand cup her breast. "How much trouble?"

"Done deal." He kissed her, harder than Peter ever had. A lewd sensual kiss, his
tongue exploring the comers of her mouth. French girls must have taught him
that. Wendy came away feeling a good deal less of a virgin.

"Now, take me up," she told him.

"Not tonight." Ryan eyed the party sprawled over the field. "Too chancy."

"When?"

"Tomorrow at twilight. Got to get the right bus."

"Get one with dual controls."

He looked shocked. "Where does a proper young lady learn about dual controls?"