[K][T] and Family Ch. 08

Jason and I went outside for lemonade, then sat on a bench, looking at the lake in the twilight. It was a great view. The purple sky reflected on the lake, with the houseboat in the foreground. Something about the lantern light made it all perfect. We said nothing for a while, which I liked. When we talked, I came straight to the point—I wanted a child and he had a right to know. I also wanted to see how he responded. There would be legal papers absolving him of financial obligation in exchange for giving up most of his rights. That kind of thing is more than some men can handle.

Both Sheila and Sean described Jason as a flighty surfer dude—who grew up fast. Christine hand picked him for this. Whatever. Jason passed my interview with points for style. He listened to my whole pitch without a word. To answer, he smiled and nodded. We hugged, then discussed how he could keep in touch with his son/daughter. When we started back into the house, he grinned and said, "I'm going to be a daddy. Cool." I could do a lot worse.

Christine gave me a big hug, which scared the shit out of me. Where the hell had she been?

Sean:

Sheila was pissed and I didn't blame her. She had been following my lead like a good little submissive. The problem was that she was not a submissive. We have CC to set that standard. As near as I could make it out, Sheila found direction soothing. I had the requisite mentality, but giving it free reign could lead to trouble. It just had, though not for the first time. I needed to make a conciliatory gesture.

To complicate matters, we were in heavy traffic near the airport, so time was limited. If the silk scarf had been any less visible, I might have missed it. I told her to give it to me, then cross her wrists. Sheila glared, but there was no hesitation. I folded the scarf into a narrow cord, then draped it over one of her arms. Sheila's reaction was a study in emotion.

She settled on a questioning look. I answered, "When you wish me to use it, return it." She threw her arms around my neck and mashed my face into her shoulder. I said, "I love you too, Kitten, but we need to get on a plane. I plan to punch your admission into the Mile High club, though not on this first flight." That earned me a laugh. When we separated, Sheila had on her public face. She pulled out a mirror and checked her makeup, but it was pure form.

Airport security is everyone's idea of inconvenient. Our luggage was pre-checked, but we both had a carry on and separate computer bag. After the wait in queue, with more time for me to put on my shoes and belt, we needed to run for the gate. It is the only time I ever envied pumps. Our plane was in final boarding, but any catch is a good catch. In a few minutes we were settling into our cramped seats.

On top of everything else, the only available seats were in coach and not together. I asked the steward if he could fix this, but we were stuck til after take off. One aggravating thing about overbooked flights is that there are standby passengers. Even though we had rushed to board at all, there was a delay for more people to board. In fact, we were so late we should have been bumped. I did not know if one of Gerald's people had called ahead, but I planned to check.

Eventually, we were told to stow our electronics and fasten seat belts. Some time after that, we turned onto the runway and lifted for California. When the seat belt light went out, I was ready to get up, but the woman in the aisle seat decided to dig in her bag. Finally I told her that I had come straight from my house and had not had time to visit the restroom. Never lie when the truth will do. I was glad of it when I saw Sheila's amused smile.

Unfortunately, I really did need to go. I gave Sheila a proper hug, then headed for the line at the facilities. When I returned, Sheila was sitting in my seat. The aisle seat was empty. I was about to ask where the woman had gone, but realized it was pointless. Sheila confirmed my guess with a simple nod. God, I love competent people. I offered Sheila the aisle seat, which she accepted. After that, the flight was almost enjoyable.

LAX is not. There are worse airports—O'Hare comes to mind—but nothing is convenient in Los Angeles. Once again we needed to hurry. We were in terminal one and needed to get to TBIT in under twenty minutes. This time I was glad I was not wearing pumps. I will never know how Sheila can make walking in heels look so easy.

Several breathless minutes later, we reached our departure gate. To my surprise, there was a sign with Sheila's full name on it. Like hell. You got to Sheila through me. Holding the sign was a well turned out man of about thirty or thirty five. I went up to him and asked, "Why do you want Mrs. Richards?" He started and said, "I cannot...Sean Richards?" Point for him. I nodded.

He said, "I am authorized to give this to you. You must be important, because AA bought me a ticket to Vegas, just to get me in the terminal." I knew I liked Aaron Aldermann. The man handed me a CD wallet, which I opened. Inside were four CD or DVD. One had a post-it note saying, "Play First." To thank him I said, "Good luck at the tables." He smirked and said, "I would rather get lucky off 'em." I just nodded, glad he did not work for me.

Sheila may have been spending too much time with CC. Her only question was a raised eyebrow. I handed her the wallet. She looked inside and nodded, as if expecting something like it. She didn't even ask who sent it. I found that comforting. Sheila reads me like a novel. At least I was not the only one.

I would have given her my present, but they called boarding for first class. We had crammed into five hours of economy to make this flight. This leg would be in style and I hoped she could sleep. We would arrive about six AM local time, in Honolulu. even though it was eleven hours in the air, plus an hour changing planes. Tuesday would be worse. The Marshall Islands are on the other side of the date line. Coming home was nonstop to JFK—ten air hours, but seventeen by the clock.

This whole trip was goofy that way. Scheduling late had made careful plans impossible. For some obscure reason, I wanted Sheila to see Kwajalein Island, where I had been stationed briefly. I had planned to go on to New Zealand. The closest I could get to Kwajalein was the national capital at Majuro. Continuing on to Australia or New Zealand proved impossible on short notice. However, the vagaries of plane schedules would take us to Guam on the flight out. That would be interesting. Guam is more Japanese than American

It was a twisted schedule. We had rushed to LA to catch the last flight to Hawaii. Richards Enterprises participated in a timeshare on one of the small islands. I would have taken the whole week, but it was already booked through Wednesday. Instead we would fly to Guam, spend two days, then on to Majuro, leaving 11:30 AM Tuesday, arriving 12:40 PM Wednesday—a three hour flight. We would stay the night and back to the big island, leaving Thursday morning, arriving Wednesday afternoon. Then it was charter float plane to the island condo for three days. Sunday it was back to Hawaii, then on to New York. I told Helen to expect me briefly on Monday afternoon. We needed to recover from all the travel.

This time, we had our seats together. As soon as Sheila was in her seat, the computer bag came out. It was not how I planned to give her present, but it was the perfect opportunity. I pulled out my own computer bag and handed her the new laptop. Technically, this was a business expense, which I would have no trouble justifying. It was a high end gaming laptop, with 3D graphics, top available graphics card, max memory and a terabyte drive. It was loaded with her preferred video software, the software Columbia Pictures preferred and their encryption package.

Sheila looked overwhelmed and I had not yet gotten to my gift. I waved her to silence and told her that she was now the Vice President on a digital graphics division. These were the appropriate tools. It was the simple truth and she knew it. After giving her a moment to absorb it all, I handed her my gift. It was a professional grade CAD platform, with a tutorial, and subscriptions to three architectural and design magazines. Sheila's eyes teared. As I hugged her, I said, "Don't thank me. I plan to drag you into a bathroom and fuck the lights out." Sheila said, "You damn sure better."

Cursing from Sheila? Oh boy. I unzipped the umbrella pouch on the computer bag and showed her the contents. Inside was the flogger she had given me. Sheila didn't say a word, but her eyes lit and her lips twitched up. Oh boy, again.

Why did I plan for twelve hours before we could get any real privacy?

Sheila:

Sean was across the line, but I let him run where he wished. At first, it seemed he was going to go seriously wrong, then he won it all back with a sweet gesture. I had come to understand the silk scarves were restraints, which made sense. Always get the client to handle the restraints. Sean took the one I had out and fondled it, then he gave it back.

I almost cried. First he had done a scene with imaginary restraints, which itself shows a great deal of trust. Then he recognized when he had overstepped. Finally, he returned the restraints, so that I could choose the time of their use. I did not have a single client I would trust that far. That said, I never married a client before. It made an interesting symmetry.

I had never been to the big airport in Philadelphia. Once was enough. We rushed to get on a flight to Los Angeles. According to Sean, most airlines stop running at eight thirty. Our flight, on NoName Air, was at 9:45 PM. It would make our connection time tight. Worse, the flight was overbooked, so we were packed in like kids on a school bus. Even that was not enough. After us, they still had to load standby passengers. Lovely, but not without benefit. It gave me time to find Sean in the crowd. When he went to the facilities, I showed my ring to the woman sitting adjacent and asked if we could exchange seats. The word honeymoon was magical.

The flight to LAX was five hours. It was the first time I had been able to relax and chat with Sean in days. Given all that happened that week, it was not surprising, but that did not make it welcome. Instead we talked about all sorts of inconsequential things, like the way Sean's ice cream churn had gone over and the way Francine had hit it off with Dr. Foxworth. Eventually, talk drifted to our property group and my new position at Richards Enterprises. Somewhere in there, Sean turned cagey. I was not sure why. Eventually, we both napped. I could get used to sleeping against Sean's shoulder.

Los Angeles International Airport, LAX, is world famous. To me it looked like a bigger version of Philadelphia. We ran through the concourses to our new gate. This time it was Hawaiian Air. Near the desk was a man with my name on a card. Given the timing and the place, I could guess what it was about, Sean gave me no chance to speak to him. Instead he returned with a CD wallet. That was nice. I had not packed one. As expected, the contents were from Columbia Pictures.

We were interrupted by the boarding call. This time we had First Class seats. I stowed my carry on bag and started to get out my notebook. Sean stopped me, so he could give with a new computer. It was above top-of-the-line. Before I could say anything, Sean waved it off as a business expense. No wonder he did not want to talk about work. He had a point. It was the sort of laptop a businesbs executive would carry.

He then gave me his present—a professional design suite, with tutorial, and a ton of online accesses. It was perfect. I wanted to learn design, for the work we would be doing on the house. I hugged him, but he cut off anything I might say, telling me he intended to extract sexual favors. I told him he had better, saving stronger language with difficulty. My pussy was a swamp. Sean took the opportunity to show that he carried the kangaroo hide lash in his computer bag. Correction, I only thought my pussy was a swamp. I did not dare sit down, or the dress would be soaked.

Since we had time during boarding, I took a turn in the toilet. Not only could I deal with the excess moisture, I wanted to extract the ben wa balls. Popping them out almost made me faint. With difficulty, I refrained from giving myself relief. After washing the balls, I tied them in the red scarf. Holding them up, two balls swinging in an improvised sack, I thought of another pair of balls and what I wanted to do to them. Oh my. Why had Sean scheduled us for a whole night apart?

As I exited the the toilet, a couple of the ladies saw the bag of balls and gave me knowing looks. I showed off the ring. Everyone got excited. One of them asked, "Are you, um...?" I nodded, blushing. She said, "Are you...?" I nodded again, blushing hotter. That brought a lot of exclamations, with many of them also blushing. I guess the Mile High Club is a popular fantasy with women as well as men.

A flight attendant shooed me away, with a wink. I made my way back to my seat and powered up the new laptop. It was Windows 8, so I needed to learn another new operating system. That kept me occupied until we were told to stow all electronics. Soon enough we were pressed into our seats by acceleration. For the first time, I left the continental United States.

Flights have rituals. Every flight has a safety briefing, telling you than the seat cushions float and that oxygen masks will drop down if there is pressure loss. After seeing one, you can tune them out. Once the plane reaches altitude, the flight attendants bring around drinks, then food. On the cross country flight, I picked at barely edible chicken and rice. This time I asked for vegetarian and received a tasty curry-like stewed vegetable dish, also with rice. On the side were green salad, fruit salad and a roll. Normally I do not eat much, but I inhaled all of this. Sean's dish looked like roast beef.

After the meal, we received drinks. I would have passed, but Sean asked for champagne. This led to our wedding being announced to all of First Class. Fine. Sean insisted I get more wine, or something stronger, to help me sleep. That was when the six AM arrival sank home. I drank a screwdriver while Sean had Irish whiskey. Eventually things started to settle in for the long ride, with several people trying to sleep. That was when the flight attendant winked at me and gestured toward the back.

Almost before I realized what was happening, Sean and I stood in the little hallway where the toilets stand. Another flight attendant gestured to a door, I went in, closely followed by Sean. There was barely room for one of us, much less two. Francine's advise made much more sense. Working my leg up beside Sean, I raised it over my head, then rested my ankle on his shoulder. His hands were busy below his waist. Once his member was clear of his pants, he shoved the skirt of my dress aside, then guided his prick into my waiting sex.

As a quicky, it was at least as good as the one in the cloak room, but shorter. I had a little orgasm on entry. Sean last only a few strokes. I came again when I felt his warm seed. I was not longer a virgin in any sense, save anal. I expected to lose that one in the next few days. In the mean time I tried to memorize the smell of my husband, the feel of his hands on my ass, even the roughness of his trousers. Then he surprised me.

We turned, so that my back was to the sink. He told me to put my hands on the counter and be ready to take weight. Once I was ready Sean put his hand behind my knee and picked my other leg off the floor. With my knees and toes against the door, he ate me. His first touch was not gentle and it escalated from there. His tongue dragged across my exposed clit, then he sucked it like a soda straw. When he paused for a breath, I relaxed slightly, only to feel his teeth. My locked jaws kept me from screaming, barely.

As he set me down, he asked, "Was it worth the wait?"