A single tear traced a ragged path down my cheek ruining my once perfect make-up. My shoulders slumped as if they were bearing the weight of the world as the full impact of my situation hit home. Angela came over to see if the dryer was too hot. I smiled and told her everything was ok and that I was fine. Angela checked my hair wrapped tight on the rollers. She said, "Looks like you're done, lets go back to my chair and I'll finishing making you beautiful."

I couldn't help but blush at the thought of being considered a beautiful woman. Inside though there was turmoil as I wrestled with strong conflicting emotions. Was it wrong for a man to feel so good being so feminine? Could I still be considered a man? Could I truly ever go back to being a man in society's eye? What would Suzanne think when she saw me?

You see, Suzanne is the love of my life and the person responsible for the person I am today. As I look back on the events of the past two years I cannot find a single event that represents a turning point. Maybe it was inevitable the first time I saw Suzanne.

I was a "hot shot" airline pilot, king of the world. I had just authored a novel as "Capt. W". The book told the story of a violent passenger whose actions lead to a disastrous crash and of the heroic efforts of the pilot to save the crippled aircraft. The cause of the crash is initially blamed on "Pilot Error" until a lone federal investigator puts her career on the line to get to the frightening bottom of the mystery. I thought it was a great story but it just didn't catch on with the reading public. That is, until my story was relived on the nightly news and a reporter happened to link my book to the crash. Sales rocketed and the mystery author became the topic of the day on the talk show circuit. My agent politely refused all requests for interviews leading to speculation (correct) that I was an airline pilot trying to keep my job. My second book again focused on aviation safety and the crowded skies over major metropolitan areas earned me a significant commission from the publisher and caused quite a stir in the news. There were calls for an investigation citing my accuracy in predicting the earlier aircraft problems.

I also gained a lot more notoriety. It was only a matter of time before my identity was discovered which would mean the end of my flying career. I knew that this was going to happen once my first book became a best seller. Through sound investments I had enough put away so that I would never have to work again. I gave notice to the airline.

I was on my next to last flight when Suzanne and I crossed paths. We were on a long leg from San Francisco to New York and I went back to get a glass of water and to stretch my legs. Suzanne was sitting on the aisle in the second row. She was a real knockout with long auburn hair cascading across her shoulders in gentle waves. Her emerald green eyes flashed with and intense fire and seemed to look right into your soul. Her dazzling smile seemed to get a little wider and brighter when she caught me staring. I could feel my face warm to a crimson glow as I scurried back to the safety of the flight deck. For the rest of the flight I was haunted by her lovely vision. At the same time I was worried because I really believed that she had looked into my soul and discovered my most hidden secrets. My fear grew as I stepped of the walkway to find Suzanne waiting for me. She thanked me for a "Most enjoyable" flight. We talked about the flight and about New York. She offered me a ride to my hotel in her limo. I declined telling her that I had to ride with the crew but asked if we could get together in San Francisco. She simply smiled, tossed her head and walked toward the waiting car. As she slowly walked away I kept praying she would look back. She never did and I never did get an answer…but I was hooked.

Imagine my surprise the next afternoon when Suzanne was sitting in "her seat" on my final flight. We exchanged greetings like two strangers but I knew that there was magic in the air. The journey west was the longest of my career. Here I was with the most beautiful, enchanting woman I had ever known sitting 20 feet away and I couldn't see or talk to her. My frustration was almost unbearable. I went back several times just to try to catch her eye but she seemed to be chatting with the gentleman in the window seat. Jealousy enveloped me in a green mask and a foul mood that vented itself on the rest of the crew. Fortunately for me, except for Amber the chief flight attendant, who watched my antics in the cabin, everyone thought my foul mood was the result of my anxiety over my last flight.

"You're acting like a true Neanderthal" Amber whispered in my ear. "What!" I responded, "Makes you say that."

"I couldn't help seeing how you ogle the poor lady in seat 2B." She said. "How would you feel to have some dopey man acting possessive and macho around you?"

"You've got this all wrong!" I replied. "Suzanne and I met following yesterday's flight and I really want to ask her out. It's just that I can't seem to get up the nerve. Every time I look into those big green eyes I seem to go all soft and quivery inside."

"Well, well, well. Looks like God's gift to the female gender has finally been brought to his knees." Amber said.

"I I…" was all I could muster as a reply. I retreated to the safety of the cockpit with my head down and my tail between my legs. I knew Amber was gloating!

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