An Erotic Story by Raz.

My dalliance began during the training for what would be my second and last space flight. Courtney (not her real name either) flirted endlessly with the seven men in the team throughout our training. She touched us at every opportunity: on the arm when she talked to us; on the shoulder in the bar after work; always flaring her nostrils with eyes wide open, a sign we all recognized. The rest of the crew was married – I was the only single guy; we mostly managed to maintain our professional cool.

“California” Mike Smith, the mission commander, was a gifted pilot, calm under pressure, and a play-by-the-rules kind of guy. Cal walked and talked like a movie star and oozed sex appeal from every pore. Women fell at his feet all the time. If anybody was going to make it with Courtney, it would have to be Cal. Sure enough, after Courtney checked us all out, she chose Cal. She had decided to become famous for having sex in the Shuttle followed by a tell-all about it, leading to a life of comfortable wealth; celebratory has its appeal.

Courtney was a legend in the Navy after she landed a crippled F-18 on the tiny bobbing deck of the carrier Enterprise. Unable to eject, she put the 50 ton machine down on a pitching deck at night, disobeying direct orders (nobody wants a 50 ton, out-of-control, piece of scrap metal mussing up the deck of a $2 billion boat) – saving herself, her REO, and most of the airplane. The brass was not amused. So when she applied to NASA, the Navy gave her a glowing recommendation and got her out of their hair!

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