Every morning didn’t mean everyone would be awake and eager to chat too. ‘Harlan, what do you know about Flair Aviation?’ He asked me. I didn’t know much, but I’d heard the name before and recited what I could remember. ‘Started up right after World War II by Avery Flair, an Army Air Corp pilot and a bunch of his wartime grease monkey maintenance friends. They decided to design and build small commercial and military transport planes and found a nice niche market until the late 1980’s. They’ve had some hard luck since then, supposedly. He died a few years back when his private plane crashed didn’t he? They’re up north in the White Mountains somewhere… not a great place to be flying planes if you ask me. Since you’re asking me about them I assume they’ve filed for bankruptcy?’ ‘Yes, a Chapter 7, it looks like they want to close up shop for good. They’ve been mostly shut down already for the last two to three years since the son-in-law that was running things died in a crash while. The yard between my house and Michelle's was separated by a 4' chain link fence, which did not provide me with much privacy, but was not of much concern to me.Several times when I was out in the yard, I noticed Michelle doing some work in her yard. We would say hello and smile, but that was the extent of our interactions. After I had been home for several weeks, I had developed sort of a routine where I would spend several hours each morning working on my tan. I started to notice that Michelle was around, working in her yard every time I was out there. I also started to notice that she was wearing less and less each time. One particular morning, I was laying out in my usual nylon running shorts. Michelle came out and started to mow her lawn. She was wearing a very tight white t shirt, without a bra, and a gauze type skirt. The dress material was very transparent, and I could see that underneath she was wearing a very sexy pair of white french-cut panties. As she walked back and forth.
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