Flash Gordon Read Online Free PDF Page B

it’s time to be suave and debonair.
    The driver opened the door for Dale; when she stepped out, she glanced at Flash for a moment.
    Did she notice me? Looking in the rearview mirror, he straightened his short blond hair with his hands before getting out of the wagon. Pretending to be oblivious to the world, he walked around the front and pulled his baggage from the passenger side. Though his lips were puckered, his mouth was dry and so he did not try to whistle. It was just as well, because he could not carry a tune for longer than ten seconds. Flash had been smitten by unreality. He was as shy and as anxious as a virgin youth. Walking five yards behind her, pretending (only for his own benefit) to be totally uninterested in her, he memorized the swaying of her hips, imagining the skin of her thighs and backside ebbing and flowing with the rhythm of her steps. He imagined other sights, as well as odors. She still wore the white jacket and the red dress, but the clothing seemed fresh, as if it had just been taken from the closet.
    The chauffeur carried her suitcases to the passengers’ area; Flash wished he could have done so himself, though he would have looked silly struggling with the bulk of her luggage and his. When Dale thanked and tipped the chauffeur, Flash felt a surge of jealousy for no good reason. He concentrated on strapping his suitcase in the compartment above his seat. The chauffeur left. Flash sat down, fastening his seat belt and crossing his legs. He felt somewhat relieved, thankful there were no other passengers, though his awkwardness at being alone with her caused a constriction in his throat that threatened to choke him.
    Clearing his throat, he looked at her and smiled.
    She nodded, finally acknowledging his existence, and returned his smile.
    Flash wondered what had happened to the worldly professional quarterback who, once he determined he could have a meaningful, spiritual, no-strings-attached relationship with a woman whose mind he admired, proceeded with assurance, wit, and style? Or had that Flash Gordon ever existed? Was that merely a role to be assumed when the circumstances warranted it? Flash grimaced, only to smile again. He was beginning to feel like a fool. When Dale spoke (with a voice that intensified his fantasies), he was totally unprepared.
    “Where did you get that stupid T-shirt?” she asked.
    If I tell her it was a gift from an admirer, she’ll get the wrong idea. “Well, uh, it’s like this, you see . . .”
    “Are you from California? You talk like you are.”
    Flash was stunned. Woman of his dreams or not, he wasn’t going to take any of this smart talk. “See here, young lady . . .” He paused; his mind was momentarily blank. “You must be a New York girl.”
    Dale was surprised. “How did you know?”
    “Your manners.”
    Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, Dale placed a tiny fist on her hip and pointed at Flash with her right forefinger. Her reply, though it might have been memorable, was destined never to be; for at that moment, the pilot and copilot stepped into the plane. Dale turned away from Flash, totally ignoring him, and smiled sweetly at them.
    The pilot tipped his hat at the passengers. The copilot said, “Morning, miss. A pleasure to have you, Mr. Gordon. I’ve been a fan of yours ever since you broke the passing record for the Sugar Bowl.” He reached out and shook Flash’s hand. “As a sophomore yet. Amazing!”
    “It was nothing. Only a game,” said Flash, feeling pleasure not at the copilot’s compliments but at the curiosity plainly apparent in Dale’s quizzical expression.
    “But what a game!” exclaimed the copilot, releasing Flash’s hand and straightening. After giving them the flight instructions and safety procedures, he said, “We should be taking off in a few minutes, so remain seated until then. And have a good flight.”
    “I’m sure we will,” said Flash as the copilot disappeared behind the blue curtains, into the cockpit.
    The