Postcards Ch. 06

For my part, she ate me efficiently to one climax, then another using tongue and a hand carved stone dildo. She tried to give me the dildo, but I begged off. I jokingly made reference to kegel beads. Barbara lit like a Christmas tree. She presented me with three stone balls, naturally polished just short of smooth, one gray, one pinkish and one volcanic black. I guessed that Barbara collected them from their tiny beach, or one of the nearby islands.

I kissed her soundly, then told her to lubricate me and feed them in. It made for an interesting farewell ceremony. Rather than let my flesh touch cold stone, Barbara washed all three, then put them in her mouth. Using nothing but her tongue and lips, she maneuvered the stones into my vagina. When she finished, I hugged her, told her she was a good girl and promised not to remove them til we arrived at the airport. Silly me.

Sean was not really drunk, though the distinction might be moot. He was a zombie as I stood him up and walked him back to bed. Once he was under the covers, I could play with him all I wanted. Sean only came close to waking once. When I decided to join him, I tossed the T-shirt and slept naked, head on his chest. When people want a mental image of our honeymoon, that is the one I give them.

Sean:

One of the things I did not miss about the military was the drinking culture. Don and I killed a six pack each. I think the big meal is all that saved me from a nasty hangover, though the one I had was bad enough. Fortunately I had a faithful wife to care for me. I woke in my bed, with Sheila naked on top of me. It was the nicest thing anyone had done for me is some time.

Sheila roused when I did, so I explored her breasts, looking for milk for milk. Sheila purred like the kitten she is. After we showered—both of us missed our shower back home—Sheila went to fix breakfast, while I packed and toted. Don was already at his boat when I arrived with the first two bags. He was taking us to a larger island, where an Army helicopter would transport us to Schofield Barracks.

Sheila's breakfast was practical—Spam and egg sandwiches, with juice and fruit salad in disposable cups. We were underway before the sun cleared the horizon. An hour later Don handed me two packages of wahoo steaks and said goodbye. Sheila did not let him go that easily. She threatened bodily harm if he did not bring Barbara to Thanksgiving and again to see the baby. This was in Cynthia voice, which shocked the hell out of Don. His hand twitched toward a salute.

Another hour had us in Schofield Barracks. As expected, we were ushered into General Buehrle's office. We were joined by our JAG officer, Mikal Petrosian, and a REMF I disliked on sight. His name was Lt. Col. William O. Williamson. He was fourth generation Army, from Virginia. Wow. I immediately decided to let Sheila do the talking. My mouth would get both of us in trouble.

Sheila started things off by addressing the lowest ranking officer first. She thanked Cpt. Petrosian for his work and gave him one package of wahoo steaks. She turned to General Buehrle and asked if he had anything more before we left for the airport. He was too good a politician to laugh at the way she snubbed the Pentagon's messenger, but there was a definite twinkle when he reintroduced Colonel Williamson.

Not deigning to glance at Col. Wow, Sheila told the General to have his clerk contact Roxanna DeWinter for an appointment. The General nodded. An aide was escorting us out of the office before Col. Wow realized that we were leaving. He was starting to sputter when General Buehrle said, "Bill, you have what you came for. Don't push your luck."

We stepped into the front room. Sheila quietly said, "Tea."

From behind us, "...be glad they didn't test the old adage about Pentagon Colonels fetching coffee." The aide almost choked.

I said, "Lieutenant..."

He said, "Yes sir. Pleasure Sir. I know just the place, Sir."

Sheila murmured, "Club sandwich."

I snorted. "Lieutenant, I work for a living. My former rank was Sergeant First Class. You don't 'Sir' me. Just for the record, it works best if the 'Sir' sandwich does not become a 'Sir' club sandwich. Clear?"

His uniform said "Jacobs". Lieutenant Jacobs said, "Clear S... Mr. Richards. It isn't easy. Sir."

We all laughed at that. I glanced at Sheila. She nodded. I said, "Just so you know, it is fine to address my wife as 'Ma'am'. My head of security does. He was a light Colonel in Criminal Investigations, not to be confused with Colonel Wow. I suggest you contact Gerald at first convenience. For the moment, you are confirmed as our liaison officer."

Lieutenant Jacobs smiled, then blanched as my content soaked through. The next ten seconds would tell a great deal. He chose to come to attention and salute Sheila. "Understood Ma'am." You do not become a General's Aide by being stupid. He broke the salute, offered me his hand, and said, "That was fun." I could work with him.

Getting to the airport was easy. Lieutenant Jacobs had a car waiting, presumably for the General. Two calls and a squad of privates moved everything to a black SUV. A Specialist was waiting to take us to the airport. Instead, we went to the same resale shop we had visited four days earlier. Two hours later, we moved on to the Airport Hilton, where we met George Kada.

This was one call I had been glad to make. George made arrangements for a short term room. Sheila and I showered and changed for the flight. It was nice to have unmetered hot water. Sheila napped on the couch while I stuck my nose back into the rat race I call my In box. That killed six hours.

A 1900 (7:00 PM) a van drove us to the airport, where we found Danny Ngo waiting at the check in. Sheila had me put him through the paces. He presented ID, as if it were an every day occurrence. I never knew who was watching, but they were assured that Danny Ngo was Daniel Ngo, attorney at law.

We moved to the waiting area. Getting to the airport was easy. Danny Ngo was still there on the other side, indicating a ticket somewhere. He told us that the Honolulu PD would send us Christmas cards, but little else. The DA considered it self defense, so anything else was a window dressing. That did not account for him being inside airport security. Sheila gave him the evil eye. Danny admitted to using the occasion to see a girl on Niihau. She was a geologist/vulcanologist who was studying the volcano.

Sheila wished him luck. Having recent experience with volcanoes erupting, I echoed her.

Chapter 5: Arriving Home

Depart: 9:45 p.m. Sat., Nov. 22, 2014

Honolulu, HI (HNL)

Arrive: 4:57 a.m. +1 Day Sun., Nov. 23, 2014

Los Angeles, CA (LAX)

Flight Time: 5 hr 12 mn

Distance: 2,556 miles

Flight: UA7534

Aircraft: Boeing 777-200

Fare Class: United First (C)

Meal: Snack

Change Planes. Connect time in Los Angeles, CA (LAX) is 5 hours 29 minutes.

Depart: 10:26 a.m. Sun., Nov. 23, 2014

Los Angeles, CA (LAX)

Arrive: 6:51 p.m. Sun., Nov. 23, 2014

New York, NY (JFK)

Flight Time: 5 hr 25 mn

Distance: 2,475 miles

Flight: UA7779

Aircraft: Boeing 757-200

Fare Class: United Business First (J)

Meal: Lunch

Total Travel Time: 16 hr 6 mn

Total Distance: 5,031 miles

Sheila:

Departure day was strange. Our tickets were on the red eye, but we left the island right after a quick breakfast. I hugged Barbara and told her not to miss the holiday we had scheduled. She gave me an early pregnancy diet. It looked like I would gain weight.

One boat ride and an helicopter later, we were back on US Army turf. I have to admire the way Sean disposed of the issues. We went straight to Gen. Buehrle's office. There was an offensive lackey waiting. Sean guided me past him and chose a suitable young officer to be a liaison, though the Army might argue with my idea of suitable. He turned white when Sean outlined his new responsibilities. Since he would displace the offensive lackey, I was not about to let him refuse.

After that, a car took us to the resale shop. I spent some time chatting with Ioki and buying Hawaiian beach wear for Christine. She asked me if the dress had been lucky. I bit my lip and blushed, then looked down. Ioki's eyes went wide and she gave me a hug. I promised to send her pictures when the baby was born.

From there we went to the Airport Hilton, where we met George Kada. He gave us a room key, saying it was only good til 5:00 PM. I did not want to know the details. Sean and I had a shower with unlimited hot water. That was reason enough. I had a nap, then we went to dinner at the hotel restaurant. Sean had them cook our frozen fish. It was not as good as Don's grillwork, but you cannot have everything.

Going through the airport without Kiku felt odd. She left word at the desk that she was in Japan. We received word of a different sort from Francine. She told me that Aaron Aldermann wanted to meet, face to face. Columbia pictures would pay for all the necessary changes. I text her the flight schedule. Five and a half hours would be enough. They could buy us breakfast.

It was a shock to be through security and into the waiting area. It was like passing through the looking glass. Sean stopped at a kiosk and bought us fruit drinks. I found an outlet and opened my fancy laptop. There were so many things I had let slide during my week away.

Siobhan sent details of the clean up. Francine had stayed on the dance floor til after midnight. Even then, she didn't quit, the band was tired. I hoped Dr. Foxworth's heart was strong enough for sex. There was much talk when they left together. That had to be Francine's choice, because there was plenty of room at the Residence.

Sunday morning the Amish had services in the Ballroom. That afternoon there was a big feast, to which the grounds staff and other workers were invited. Siobhan negotiated four Amish girls to act as cooks and cleaning crew. She said the Farmer's Market would be getting a shock before long. The Mothers had visited the Market on Saturday, before the wedding. They were not impressed.

When one of the boys found an horse drawn plow in storage, the elders decreed that a garden be plowed. They did it Monday, before going to the train depot. The rest of the men spent the morning moving a large wood burning stove to a wagon. Siobhan donated it to their church. There were many teary eyes at the depot. In a related note, the Elders Nuefeld were looking at farm properties on the market. The Amish see the collapse of the family farm as a business opportunity.

Siobhan's grad students lasted a bit longer. Conrad and Kerin disappeared into one of the attics for two days. They emerged with a basket of old letters and other papers which they wanted to take back to Hannover. Siobhan insisted on an itemized list and photocopies of every page. Even then, some of them never returned. Various departments/museums at Dartmouth would keep them. Sean never told me his family was important during the Revolutionary War. Siobhan earned a name as a shrewd negotiator of favors.

Among the students, there was a pair of marriage proposals—one hetero, one same sex—plus a third involving one of Sean's security staff. In that case it was more of a formal proposal of courting. Still, Siobhan felt it would bear fruit. Harshini's family sent her to school expecting her to meet men. A British officer, raised in India, on a solid career track, would be an easy sell. I told Siobhan to get started on citizenship for both of them.

Christine's messages had a completely different emphasis. She told me that Jason would father Francine's first baby, but only because Dr. Foxworth was married. She expected him to slip up at some point. Francine, Dr. Foxworth and the band were already booked at two high profile weddings in Manhattan. Francine would be donating her five figure fee toward new band uniforms.

Jason was the Beaue of the Ball. His picture, with Francine on his arm, ran in People, US, Teen Beat and several celebrity sites. I had given him Matthew Arnold's name, because he needed an agent. Matthew was a Cynthia client, so I thought he would be a good fit. As with some of Sean's instant hires, it proved inspired. Not only did they hit it off, Matthew understood Jason. He deflected all the photographic inquiries in favor of art modeling. Jason had already done sittings for two paintings and had a sculpture scheduled.

On a more personal level, Christine detailed two sessions Siobhan conducted. In both cases Christine was the centerpiece and both were well attended. What caught my attention was that all attendees were restrained and several were gagged. Though both sessions were recorded, Christine only sent pictures. It was enough. Siobhan wore heels, her corset, black panties and matching bra, fishnet stockings supported by a belt and a harlequin mask. In four inch heels, Siobhan towered over everyone. Add the ramrod straight posture and she cut an imposing figure. Good for her.

That part of the mail pile was fun. I had a Richards Enterprises pile that dwarfed my personal stack. Fortunately, Roxanna was flagging things by priority. I checked with Sean. He told me to commend her initiative and have her contact Helen. She and Sean had a similar system. We needed to get them synchronized. I sent that note and also briefed Roxanna on my expected breakfast meeting. That would be her speed.

The military, not so much. I told Roxanna to expect contacts from various governmental entities. Since we did not have security in place, everything was to be referred to Gerald, with copies to Sean and me. Gerald would be in touch. Naturally, I copied Sean and Gerald, but my guess was that Gerald beat me to the punch.

For the next several minutes, I waded through a number of things I wanted to kill. It was OK if I touched them that long, but it made me want to wash my hands. Distasteful as it was, I realized my mood had improved. Some reflection pointed out that I was working again. After a decade of sixty to eighty hour weeks, the last month had been a nice break. Breaks are temporary. It was good to be back to business.

This brought something else to mind. I would never be going back to my studio. Somehow, that was no longer a big issue. My clients had been through this before. We would adjust. The key was to keep looking forward.

With that in mind, I replied to a note from Richard. On Wednesday, he sent me an update on my clients' progress. While it covered most of the important subjects, the format was scattered and the issues were not prioritized. I suggested he spend time with Siobhan, working on organization. I never mentioned Siobhan's girl Friday. He would have to connect some dots if he was going to keep his job. I concealed copied this to Siobhan. She would love that.

Long before I finished, Sean prodded me. Our plane was boarding. Where had two hours gone? Reluctantly, I closed the PC and moved to the queue. On board the plane, the flight attendants wanted to fuss over us. Apparently we were still celebrities. I made it worse by waving off the champagne. This brought pointed looks, which Sean encouraged. My meal plate was at least double the size of Sean's.

Over the ocean, Sean rolled over and went to sleep. It was hard to hold it against him, since the reverse had been true more than once. Instead, I pulled out the design suite and began working on Siobhan's bedroom. It was difficult working from memory, but that made it a challenge. Before we touched down at LAX, I could recognize the room from my sketch. One last twist was to leave one window open, where Siobhan had dangled Francine over the boxwood bushes.

As we taxied to the gate, I checked for messages from Francine. There were at least twenty. I picked the last one and told her to make sure the kettle was boiling. She replied, "Coffee it is.:)." You have to love her or strangle her. I replied that I wanted to be careful of what I drank. She sent back, "Damn it. I wanted to go first. Break a placenta." I told her not to feel bad. If she really wanted a semen sample, she should ask Dr. Foxworth's wife. She took time answering, possibly to swear creatively. The reply was short, "That might work." Life was good.

Airports are a pain. LAX is no exception, though they were used to handling dignitaries. I found it surreal to be in that category. Lackeys met us at the ramp, asked for our baggage claims. There was an awkward moment when I told them the luggage was through to JFK, but these were professional ass kissers. We were quickly moving, with security in front and behind. It proved insufficient.

Our convoy drew stares. Clearly everyone wanted to know who I was. I would have included Sean, but all eyes were on me. I was embarrassed enough to get really irritated. The blowup happened at the limo stand. Our ride was third in line. While we waited, several cameras flashed. While the security types were keeping autograph seekers at bay, a thirty something sleaze peddler slipped in. He shoved a recorder in my face and asked if I was in town to shoot scenes with Richard Johnson.

Those were his last words, because I grabbed his hand and put the ball of my thumb on his third CMC joint. If he knew any self defense, he would have known this was not a disabling hold. It just hurts a lot. Sean saved me from overdoing things.

He said, "Son, you stuck your dick in the grinder. She will break things in your hand. She is very good at gauging tension and rupture points, but she has put people in the ER before, surgery even." Sean took a moment to crush the recorder with his heel. "Now, if you want my advice, ask for forgiveness and never, ever try that again. By the way, she works behind the camera. They call her in when a hundred million dollar picture is in the toilet. Trust me on this. She's that good with image processing."

We did not wait for the apology. Our limo pulled up and we climbed in. One of the security types shot several images of him kneeling on the concrete with his mouth open. I never learned his name, but he was evidently a big cheese in the tabloid world. The phone pic was on the cover of a gossip magazine before we made it out of JFK.

The irony of all this was the limo itself. It was Sean's Mercedes done large. There was a selection of alcohol, bottled water and juice. Next to that was a fruit basket, which paled compared to one of Barbara's. Then there was a stack of papers and magazines. In the pile was Sean's catalog. I wanted to die. Sean calmly picked it up. The cover starts, "Richard's Enterprises Presents..." Sean pointed at the "Richards", then to himself. Light dawned in a couple of faces. Then Sean flipped to the credits page and pointed to my name, then me. Heads nodded. Under the circumstances, it was as good as I was going to get.

The limo pulled into an all night restaurant called Johnny D's. I didn't even make it through the door before Francine yelled from her table, "Sean." Suddenly I was arm candy again. Introductions were made, not including me. I was loving it. At the table were Francine, Aaron Aldermann, a Sony executive named Morita Masaru. My radar pinged.

I looked at Sean. He stopped glad handing long enough to ask if I could make a call. Mr. Morita did not roll his eyes, quite. I called Kiku and hoped she was free. I must have been on caller ID, because she said my name before I spoke. That saved time. I gave my phone to the senior lackey. Soon, he was nodding and saying "Hai." He gave the phone to his boss, who looked annoyed.

After a quick "Hai." there was a long pause. Mr. Morita looked startled, then looked hard at me, then at Sean, then back to me. "Hai. Domo." He pulled his aide aside and spoke at length. The aide pulled out a smartphone and started looking for something. He soon presented the phone to Morita, who looked at it, then said into my phone, "Arigato, Kikusan." He handed my phone to his aide, along with instructions.