“Yeah. I always throw all my stuff on the floor when I leave. Don’t you?” I snapped. Apart from the laptop, nothing seemed to be missing.“Mayb... we should ask the Khafama,” suggested Omar.“Oh, I will. Where is that little...”I needn’t have asked. The Khafama appeared, with a devious grin.“Did you do this?” asked Omar, in Arabic. I could understand most of the answer:“Yes, Your Royal Highness. I inspected this room for alcohol and drugs. I am sorry to report he had changed the lock. We had to. As she leaned forward to point things out, her long blond hair would sometimes brush against my arm. She showed me how to fill out the flight log and we started the plane. We went through a check of the instruments. As we began taxiing towards the runway with her at the controls, she explained how to pull back on the yoke to relieve pressure on the nose wheel. I was wondering what she could do to relieve the pressure building in my pants.As we approached the runway she radioed the tower with. More

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