THE DOCTOR, THE DOLLY AND THE DORNIER.


By KATZMAREK


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This is a work of erotic fiction. It remains my property and no-one else's. It may not be lent, resold, emended, bent, stolen, reprinted or doodled-on without my express permission in writing.


For Denny

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Little Lisa Loest liked visiting her Dad at the airfield where he worked as an 'Airspace Director.' Sometimes if he was not busy, they'd sit and talk over chocolate eclairs and moccachinos in the tiny staff cafeteria. At other times, particularly at the weekend, things would get busy with all the 'hobby' fliers and the glider boys. Her Dad would often get anxious and frustrated at those times because of some of the stupid things they'd do. When that happened, Lisa would try and amuse herself as much as she could by taking little walks around the hangars.


One day she went right to the edge of the airfield where the historic aircraft club had a compound. Unusually she found the gate open so she decided to enter and have a look around.


One of the hangars had the door partly open so Lisa had a little peek. She saw a man, maybe in his fifties bent over what looked like the frame of an aircraft fusilage. An electric-arc welder flashed vivid white and Lisa recoiled from the glare. She bumped the side of the big sliding door making a 'boing' sound on the steel.


"Here!" the man said, "don't look into the welder. You could damage your eyes you know."


"I'm sorry," Lisa said, "I was just curious..."


"Be curious somewhere else," the man told her, "this is a restricted area. You shouldn't be here."


"My Father runs the airfield," Lisa explained, "I was just having a look around. What are you building?"


"An aeroplane," he replied, sarcastically.


"Strange," she said, looking over the framework, "I can't see where the front is?" The man sighed, stretched, and stood up.


"That way," he said tersely, "there will be an airscrew at each end, see?"


"Why?"


"Because that's the way Dorniers designed her, obviously. Centre-line thrust... two engines, one here in the nose and one there in the fusilage driving a pusher 'screw."


"Pusher screw!" she giggled, "thats sounds rude!"


"Does it?" the man said walking away.


On the back of the man's blue overalls was the name 'Arnold' in white lettering. He had long hair streaked with grey and tied in a ponytail. He reminded her of an old hippy. Lisa stepped into the hangar and looked around. Hanging up on hooks from the roof were the frames of two wings and beyond that obviously parts of the tail.


"Fins?" she asked him.


"Cruciform," he answered, "like a dart's tail. That's the upper fin, the two horizontal stabilisers and that one there is the ventral fin."


"Why is it like that?" she asked.


"It's technical," he told her, "it would take a long time to explain. Aerodynamics... torque reaction... compression vortices... all kinds of stuff. Now if you don't mind I'd like to continue working?"


"Sure," she told him, "I'd like to look around, if that's all right?"


"I guess," he grumbled, "just don't touch anything!"


"Are they the engines over there?" she asked him, "they're wierd. I've never seen aero-engines like those before."


"That's because they're built 'upside down' with the pistons underneath rather than upright like a car engine. Don't fiddle with them!" he cautioned, "I got them from Germany. They're hand-built to very fine tolerances... and they cost a lot of money."


"Wow!" Lisa exclaimed, "they're so big! They must be very powerful!"


"17 hundred horsepower. Boosted to 20 with full supercharge and methanol injection!" he told her with a hint of pride. Lisa sensed he really wanted to talk about his plane. He hadn't kicked her out in any case.


"That's... 4000 horsepower!" she said in wonder, "my God, it must be very fast!"


"Yep," he agreed, "fastest piston-powered aircraft ever. Forget your Spitfires and Mustangs. This baby would have blown the weeds off the lot of them. If the Krauts could have got her ready in time that is."


"Ready?" she asked, "for what?"


"Combat, of course," he explained, "see, Dorniers made her near the end of the Second World War. Two engines on the center-line of the aircraft reduces drag yet you get the benefit of the horsepower. Better weight distribution too means your centre of gravity is near the optimum for handling. She could turn better, fly faster than any allied aircraft at the time."


"Then why didn't they make more of them?" Lisa asked.


"Well the war finished before they could fully develop it. Then of course there were the jet aircraft. They were the future for fighting aircraft."


"So when will you have her finished?" Lisa said.


"God know's," he shrugged, "I didn't realise there'd be so much involved. I've had to fabricate so much. Components are impossible to find. Blueprints are all out of print. I've had to do a lot of asking around, guesswork, and then try and turn stuff out on the lathe. Sometimes I get it right, at other times I'm way off. It's frustrating! There aren't many of them in existance, just one that I know of. Dorniers refurbished one in 1974 from a specimen that had been sitting in a field in America for 30 years. I was lucky that a small firm in Germany began making wartime fighter aircraft engines. You see, there are a number of Messerschmitts around with foreign engines in them and the owners wanted the originals put back in. So this guy begins making them from old spare parts. When they ran out he starts building them from scratch. Marvelous engineering!" he added in wonder.


Although the aircraft firm of Dornier, then based on the Swiss border near Lake Constance, had not the time to fully develop the Do 335 fighter, reports from Allied test pilots after the war attest to it's fine handling characteristics. However these innovative aeroplanes proved to be somewhat of a dead end. Perhaps the swan song of the piston-engined fighter aircraft at the dawn of the jet age.


The strange-looking aircraft had obsessed Albert since he was a kid. Through his apprenticeship and career as an aircraft engineer, it had been his burning wish to build one for himself. However the absolute unavailability of suitable engines had baulked his ambition. Until, that is, that engineer in Germany began rebuilding them.


At 49 he took early retirement, hiring hinself out occasionally as a consultant. Cashing up his house and car, he ploughed all his money into the project. Even that wasn't sufficient and, during the two years gestation of the project, he had to pause to earn some more funds.


The hangar and workshop he leased from the Historic Aircraft Club at minimal rental. Last winter he moved into the backroom, making himself a rudimentry apartment. All to save money for the project.


Albert Jensen had never married, although there was some talk of an engagement some years ago. He told his friends he 'never had time for all that stuff.' In truth, his obsession had so absorbed his life that there was little room for anyone else.


"Haven't you got something else you should be doing?" he asked Lisa in annoyance, "maybe your Mother wants you?"


"No," she replied, "and I don't have a Mother, she died when I was little."


"Oh," Albert answered, embarrassed, "didn't know, sorry."


"That's alright. Dad brought me up. I've been around aircraft all my life. Dad taught me to fly when I was 13, I have a special license! Maybe I can fly this when you've finished her?" Albert broke out in a coughing fit. "You need to cut down on smoking, it's bad for you," Lisa told him.


"You fly this?" he croaked, "in your dreams little girl."


"I could... and I'm not so little!" Lisa protested, "I've been up in a Macchi, and Dad took me up in that Magister outside. I landed it myself, no problem."


"Ok," Albert replied, "but those are relatively modern aircraft. You'd find this a handful compared to those jets. And I'll smoke myself to death if I want!"


"Your funeral!" Lisa continued to look around. She found the door to Albert's apartment and peered inside. "You need a housekeeper," she told him. Albert ignored her and continued welding the frame. Walking over to the tail section, minus fins and rudder, Lisa began to point out the various parts. "Longerons... formers... and those holes are for the control wires and hydraulics?" Albert nodded, distracted by the girl's chat. "That servo is for the elevators and that's for the rudder. The wires goes through there for the trimtab..."


"Have you finished?" Albert snapped, "to be honest you're bugging me. I can't concentrate on the work. You can't fool around with arc-welders, y'know. I could end up burning myself."


"Sorry," Lisa said, "perhaps I can help? I've got nothing better to do and this is really interesting. I've never seen an actual aircraft being built, it's fascinating. You could use a bit of organisation around here too, you know. It's a wonder you can find anything."


"I can find everything," he told her, "you'd only mess up my system."


"System? What system? There're boxes of stuff scattered around, your hand tools are piled everywhere, pieces of metal on the floor, oil. If OSH turns up they'd condemn the place as an 'unsafe work environment'."


Albert stood, looked around scratching his jaw.


"Y'reckon?" he asked. Lisa nodded. "Maybe it could stand a bit of cleaning up," he considered, "I don't want them interferring bastards in here. I guess I don't have much time for cleaning up."


"That's settled then," she announced, "I'll be your assistant. I won't ask for much pay."


"Ha! A cup of tea if you're lucky. Oops, no milk... a cup of black tea!"


"You're funny!" she chuckled.


"No I'm not, I'm an arsehole! Hoy! Don't take that away, they're my vernier calipers, I need them."


"For the precise measurement of width and diameters?" Lisa said proudly, "see I know what everything's for. My Dad and Brother both are very mechanically minded."


"That so?" Albert said, unenthusiastically, "knowing what a tool does doesn't mean you know how to use it."


"Because I'm a girl doesn't mean I don't know my way around a workshop. Do you know what a 'Cirrus Major' is?" she asked.


"Sure! An old aero engine. Inverted four cylinder..."


"My Dad and I pulled one to bits when I was 6."


"You don't say?" Albert raised his eyebrows, "if I want anything pulled to pieces I'll know who to call then, won't I?"


"You don't have to be so... sarcastic," she chided.


"If you don't like it..." Albert walked away mumbling.


Lisa continued at the workshop the rest of the afternoon. Albert was grudgingly impressed by the difference she made to the state of his workspace. By early evening she had tools hanging up and marked, spilt oil sawdusted, metal offcuts stacked neatly or put away in old oil drums. It seemed she'd found more room in the workshop. Albert was pleased.


Lisa's phone rang and she told Albert that her Dad was finally leaving. She asked him if she could come back tomorrow and Albert found himself agreeing. He even gave her a pass-key for the main gate. He didn't fully understand why afterwards. Perhaps it was just that the girl was very persuasive.


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The next day, Lisa arrived at nine and let herself in the gate. She wore her blue, work overalls and had tied her hair up under a cap. Albert briefly looked up, then continued working. She busied herself in re-organising the workshop, more labelling, cleaning bench tops and so-on.


"Today I'm going to lower the rear engine into place," Albert announced around mid-morning.


"Cool!" she responded, "do you need a hand?"


"Maybe," he said, slowly, "I'll need someone to guide me while I work the hoist. Someone that knows what they're doing, like. See," he pointed, "those are the two bearers. They'll take the weight of the engine. It's bolted on through those three points there. They've got rubber buffers inserted, see? To reduce vibration through the frame. You'll need to line up the holes and push the guiding rods through. Then I'll press in the pins and secure the bolts."


"It looks like the engine would be too heavy." Lisa commented.


"Well, the bearers are canterlevered," he replied, "The front and rear engine bearers are designed so that they act against each other, counter-acting the torque effect of the engines. The two engines form the ends of what amounts to a bridge, with the wings in between. Or a seesaw, pivoting on the wings' mainspar."


Two hours of careful maneuvering later, the engine was finally mounted in place. Albert made sure that the pins were fixed tight. Any freeplay will cause them to distort and allow the engine to twist out of alignment with the propellor shaft. He was, though, a skilled engineer and had measured everything up to fine tolerances. Lisa was impressed at the way it all fitted into place. She began to regard him as something of a magician or genius.


"Perfect!" Albert announced, "I'll fit the tail section, rear shaft and reduction gearbox tomorrow. Variable pitch mechanism goes on inside of the airscrew spinner. Exhaust stacks, if we've got time, and then we can start assembling and fitting the skinning. We've got a bit of arc-welding ahead of us there." Lisa nodded enthusiastically. Albert came and put his hand on her shoulder, the first time he'd touched her. She felt comfortable with the friendly gesture. She didn't think over-familiarity was part of Albert's personality.


"There seems so much to do," she told him, "cockpit and controls... and the entire nose section!"


His arm remained resting affectionately on her shoulder. Despite herself Lisa's heart beat a little faster. Despite his frosty outwardly personality, she could feel tenderness through that touch. She leaned slightly towards him.


"... So," he was saying, "I think I'm done today. Tomorrow the tubing for the wing de-icing gear should be arriving and..."


Lisa listened to him in snatches. He talked not to her, it seemed, but merely to organise himself for the next day. 


"Is there a washroom where I can get this grease off?" she asked him.


"Um, sure," he answered distractedly, "through there, in my flat. You can have a shower if you want." Lisa moved away towards the door, his hand slipping from her shoulder. 


His living quarters were tiny and smelt of the workshop. One tiny louvred window let light in reluctantly through a layer of dirt. A threadbare sofa, a stool and an old table were the only items of furniture. No TV, just an old radio permantly tuned to a 'Classic Hits' station and barely audible. Lisa wondered what the man did to relax.


She peeked into the other 'room'. It was no more then an extention partitioned by a hastily-constructed, plywood wall. In it was a single, unmade bed surrounded by piles of books about chest high. An improvised bookcase had long been overwhelmed, the shelves crushed and bowed by the weight of books.


Lisa withdrew to find the washroom. Like the rest of the place it was tiny and doubled as a toilet and shower. There was barely room to maneuvre and Lisa assumed Albert would have to dress in the lounge.


In the water-cylinder cupboard Lisa found a stack of towels still in their laundry service plastic wrappers. She chose one and put her ear to the door. She could hear Albert moving about organising his tools for the next day so she concluded it would be safe to get undressed. The door she noted, had no lock.


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She knew boys looked at her. Her ex-boyfriend used to call her, a tidy package.' 'Boyfriend?' she thought, 'if 'boyfriend' meant a quick fumble in a car after a routine of dates to the local cinema.' She wasn't sure why she went out with him anyway. I guess it was Summer and all the other girls at school went out with dates and she didn't want to be the last one on the bench.


Sex promised more than it delivered for Lisa. Movies, magazines and songs talked of merging souls, burning lust and sensational climaxes. Girls talked of 'their soulmates' and the one who was 'meant to be.' 'I guess,' thought Lisa, 'this was all something she had to look forward to in the future.' I certainly hadn't been the case in her life.


'She'd had friends who were boys and boyfriends who were not friends. Boyfriends were supposed to be good-looking, attentative, cool and make one's girlfriends jealous.' That was the accepted dictum but it brought no joy for Lisa. A car was preferable for a guy, almost essential, but access to a parent's car was ok providing the vehicle wasn't 'dicky,' like an old Ford Laser or something. She thought it was all crap.


Her 'first time' was at a party. She and her date had been drinking and she thought, 'why not? Let's get this over with.' The guy was ok, it had been a first date, and he was a top Rugby player at her school. Her friends had awarded her 'top points' for 'hooking' him.


For much of the evening she watched, rather bored, while he and his friends sat in a circle playing drinking games. Around midnight the guys all paired up with their dates, snogged, or disappeared for 'privacy.' Lisa felt the girls were all part of the reward after a hard game of football.


This guy, 'Thorny' to his mates, turned out to be as nervous and inexperienced as she was. Lisa got the impression he'd never taken off his clothes in front of a girl before and kept saying, 'you first' to every suggestion.


He shyly pulled out a condom from his wallet. He told her it was for 'emergencies' but Lisa thought it was wishful thinking. He lay down between her legs and butted around for a while before finding the right place. The sex was brief, uncomfortable and unsatisfying. His hard hipbone dug into her thigh, he chewed her neck leaving a mark, he mashed and chomped her small breasts like they were rubber dummies coated in sugar. Her skin smarted afterwards from where he had gripped her, bottom and breasts and her neck stung. She was sore between the legs where his thick tool had lanced her virginity. Emotionally she felt drained, used, and upset. Lisa knew she'd made a mistake.


As her date snored contentedly she'd slipped out of bed, dressed and walked home to a hot shower. From then on the Rugby team was to become a no go area.


But now she was a year older and wiser for all of her 16 years. Wisdom, however, brought caution and not just a little boredom. Avoiding 'those parties' was one thing, but in this small town there was not very much else to do. Whenever some guy would pluck up the courage to ask her on a date, she mentally pasted 'Thorny' onto his pimply features. That was enough for her. No more Thornys' despite the cost to her social life.


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The shower was hot and relaxing. Lisa, though, felt an uneasiness. Here she was in the shower of a man she didn't really know. Her clothes were lying just outside the door in his 'lounge'. Just outside the door that had no lock. Her nervousness was sharpened when she heard Albert enter, whistling. If he noticed her clothes lying there over the sofa, he didn't let on.


"You want some dinner?" he called, "I usually order something by phone. What d'yer fancy?"


"Anything!" she called back.


"Fish and chips, then," he replied, "be here in half an hour."


"Ok."


She listened to him clattering about for a little while before deciding she was being silly. Of course she could trust Albert! Stepping out of the shower she grabbed the large towel and wrapped it around herself. Opening the door slightly she could see his back as he stood over the table looking at blueprints, seeming to not hear her. Lisa carefully retrieved her clothes and began to dress, awkwardly keeping the towel around her.
She'd pulled on her panties and turned around for her bra when he turned. 


"Sorry," he mumbled, "I should have given you some privacy."


"We're all grown-ups," Lisa told him, laughing nervously.


"Sure," he agreed, "I've seen it all before." Lisa's skin tingled as she hurriedly dressed, aware of Albert's eyes on her not a metre away. "Hmm," he said, "might even have one myself."


"Lots of water, still."


"Yep, gas," he explained, "as much hot water as you want."


Lisa pretended to dry her hair as Albert stripped off down to his underwear. She felt a kind of relief when the door to the shower closed and she could hear the water. 


Some ten minutes later Albert came back out steaming. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair matted around his shoulders. Lisa was aware of the powerful smell of soap, his bare chest beaded with water and exuding maleness. She stared at the floor, her face burning with shyness.


"Whew," he said, sitting beside her, "that's better!"


The sofa was small. Lisa was very aware of Albert's leg touching her's. There was no way, however, she could avoid contact without appearing silly so she told herself to be 'grown up' and not to worry about it. As they sat waiting for the food to arrive, Lisa felt Albert leaning against her shoulder. He was silent, she stole a look at his face and found him lost in thought, swallowing as if his tongue was too thick.


All of a sudden she felt his hand slowly encircling her shoulder. Lisa's mind was a riot of conflicting emotions. His hand seemed to burn on her bare skin.


Lisa, I..." he started to say. She turned and stared into two puppy-eyes, an almost helpless look on his face like he was under control of some force. "I..." his mouth worked again. Then he moved in and kissed her on the lips.


His lips eased Lisa's apart and he gently probed them with the tip of his tongue. His hand drew her towards him. Lisa put her hand on his chest, then gradually moved it to encircle his neck. She trembled with feeling. She responded to his passion with some of her own, kissing back with increasing desire.


As he kissed her, Lisa felt herself being pushed back against the cushion on the arm of the sofa. Albert's body pressed along her body, his right leg moved over her thigh pushing his warm, hard erection against her thigh.


Lisa felt a jolt of emotion. His lips moved down her jaw to her neck.


"I'm sorry, I..." he murmered, but continued nuzzling and sucking.


"It's OK," Lisa gasped, trying to stay rational through the riot of feelings.


Then his hand began to roam. It started from her shoulder then gradually caressed her down towards the bumps of her breasts. Lisa's nipples ached in anticipation as his fingers traced the shape of her little cones. His hand drifted down her tummy to the bottom of her T-shirt then slipped underneath onto her bare skin.


Albert's leg pressed between her thighs. Lisa parted them a little and was rewarded by the sensation of his thigh hard against her crotch. Instinctively she pressed back, feeling the moisture of her own need dampen her panties.


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Lisa had her favourite sexual fantasies like every girl her age. Her best one was to be taken in the shower, slippery with suds, gently screwed from behind as she was bent against the wall. Her fantasy man held her by the hips, pulled and manipulated her nipples with his big hands. She'd imagine this little scene when she felt horny in bed at night, turned on her front, and stroked herself.


Albert's hand was now pulling up her T-shirt. He was kind of growling softly and sighing to himself as if he was wrestling with his conscience and losing. His fingers felt warm and smooth as they gently explored Lisa breasts, his thumb softly teasing her throbbing nipples.


Lisa became suddenly aware of his burning erection pressing against her thigh. Her hand wanted to touch it, feel the shape and texture. She wanted to please him. She reached down and gave it a little rub. Abert groaned in response and his hand gripped her breast more urgently.


He pulled down her lace bra cup and gripped her nipple between thumb and forefinger. Lisa sucked in her breath at the burst of feeling. He mashed his lips to hers so fiercely she struggled for breath.


Albert's mouth siezed her nipple, his hand flew between her legs. Lisa felt herself losing control as his hand sort out her sopping crotch. She parted her legs a little allowing him access, trembled with anticipation as he undid the belt of her jeans.


His hand slipped inside onto her panties and his fingers explored the contour of her little mound. Lisa hips began to rock slowly against his hand. Albert took her hand and brought towards his cock. Lisa started as her fingers found smooth, damp and very hard flesh. Somehow he had maneuvered his erection out of his briefs.


Her hand curled around him and pulled on his cock. His hand disappeared under the waistband of her panties, his finger stroked her slit with just the right amount of pressure.


Lisa's body jerked, she thrust her pelvis at Albert's roving fingers. After some frantic fumbling, they found a natural rhythm and continued to pleasure each other. Lisa pressed her cheek to Alberts, listened to his urgent breathing. She pulled on him faster and faster, his cock now slippery and sliding between her fingers easily.


"Oh, oh..." he gasped and she felt his cick begin to grow and pulse. Lisa's pussy spasmed, she put her leg across his and held him tight. His warm, sticky sperm began to coat her fist. She felt a whoosh of feeling, an orgasm. Not a great one, perhaps, but that wasn't the point.


Tears welled up as she clung to him in the afterglow.


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Two months later the replica Dornier Do335 Pfeil experimental fighter was ready for flight testing. It was painted in a standard Luftwaffe 'dunkelgruen' camoflage scheme on top and 'hellblau' on the underside. Grey 'Balkankreuzen' national insignias were painted on the fusilage and wings and on the tail, the swastika. On the left side of the long snout 'Liza' was painted in white Gothic script.


The Aircraft Examiner had just been, poking and prodding. He tested each weld and rivet for contamination or cracks. Eventually, after two days, he pronounced the aircraft safe for flying.


"Nice job!" he told Albert as he got into his car.


That afternoon an exhibition pilot from the Historic Aircraft Club was due to start her ground testing under power. All this stuff was necessary for the aircraft to achieve the coveted, 'Certificate of Airworthyness.'


Lisa and Albert grinned like cheetahs as together they watched the Examiner drive out through the gate. All day long a succession of visitors and passersby had stopped and stared at the unusual aeroplane. They stood close together and fielded the questions of the curious. People assumed they were Father and Daughter. They didn't mind anymore, in the two months since becoming an item they had grown well used to it.


Lisa, however, had told her schoolfriends little about 'her guy.' She reasoned it was none of their business and couldn't be bothered justifying their age difference.


She'd practically moved into the little flat at the back of the workshop. Her Father was surprisingly relaxed about her relationship, perhaps believing it had more to do with her interest in the Dornier rather than it's builder. But Lisa knew different.


Albert was loving, considerate and passionate. She even got used to his droll sense of humour and even began to match his sarcasm with her own. She gave, she thought, as much as she got.


She enjoyed his touching her. He was spontaneous with his affection, giving her lots of squeezes and hugs. He signalled his desire for lovemaking by coming up behind her and stroking her bottom. She, in turn, woud turn to kiss him and, with a shy smile, take his hand and walk towards their little home.


She insisted they take a shower together first. He'd lather her body, caressing her with the suds and sliding his body against her's. She loved the fee of his growing cock pressing into the small of her back and against the cheeks of her bottom. She'd sigh when he eventuay pushed his warm cock into her from behind, grabbing her hips and stimuating her with his fingers. Sometimes he'd come like that, but mostly no. Instead he'd bring her to an orgasm with his fingers.


Afterwards she'd lay back on 'their' bed and spread her legs, her knees bent. He'd drink in the sight for a brief moment before fallin on top of her. Grinding into her, her feet locked behind his back, was his favourite position. Together they murmered and cuddled until the food arrived or it was time for Lisa to go back to her Father.


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The battery pack plugged in, Lisa and Albert watched as first the front screw began to turn, then the back. Amid clouds of white smoke a brief flame issued from the exhaust stack followed by a sharp crackle. The banging and clattering increased in tempo as the whirling blades spun faster and faster. They hugged each other tighter as the twin engines broke into an even beat, the long grass behind the plane bent low with the onrush of wind.


"I guess it does sound a little rude," Albert told her above the noise.


"What?" she asked.


"Pusher screw," he smiled.


Katzmarek(C)