Chapter 3

“Yes, it is. I am Charles Curry. May I ask why we are conversing on this beautiful, but somewhat early morning, ma’am?”

“Of course, sir. My apologies. I am the prosecuting attorney in the case of Georgia v. Curry. That would be Sherri Curry, sir, as she had changed her name to Curry and not changed it back after your brother’s passing. I am sorry for your loss, sir, especially under these circumstances as they appear. We are also trying her supposed boyfriend, Henry Jordan, his friend Michael Bishop of Bishop Freightways, and one Arnold Jones, the driver that was operating the truck when the alleged accident that killed your brother occurred.”

Her accent was distracting. The sound of her voice was as sweet as Tupelo honey and as pleasing as the thought of a Mobile magnolia blossom.

“Great. I’m glad all that is taking place. Now, how can I be of assistance?”

“We were wondering if you and Miss Donna Grant, if she is still in your locale, could attend deposition hearings down here in Atlanta, or if we would need to come up there. We’d rather foot the bill, and have you deposed here so that we don’t pay for a little vacation for the defense, but...” I interrupted her.

“Say no more, ma’am. We can come to you. It’ll be nice to get out and about anyway. Compensation won’t be necessary. We’ll just need dates and times, and directions, of course.”

“Fantastic. Please, though, we will be glad to reimburse you for airfare and meals, should you request such. I just wanted to let you know what was coming down the pike and ask you if you’d be available, most probably in the earlier part of the week after next.”

“No problem. I am currently unencumbered by employment, and Miss Grant does not start her senior year of school until August twentieth or so. We should be fine.”

“Thank you, sir. I will call next week late, or early the one after with specific times and places. Would that be satisfactory?”

“Certainly. Miss Carlisle, could you say satisfactory again. Please?”

“Satisfactory. May I ask why, Mister Curry?”

“I apologize in advance, Miss, but your voice tickles me. I love it. Please call anytime with our instructions.”

“You certainly are a cad, Mister Curry. A fresh one at that.” I heard a subtle laugh in her voice. “I look forward to meeting you all. Goodbye.” I heard a click and set the phone down.

“You are in so much trouble. Your fiancée is going to find out about your flirting with that Atlanta lawyer and cut your weewee off. I have no idea what she’ll do with it then, but it will be fun to think about. You are a flirt. I heard her voice, Charlie. You do attract the women, don’t you? I have you, though, don’t I?”

I wrapped her up in my arms and kissed her everywhere I could for about three minutes. I had her laughing so hard, she wet herself, and the sheets. No problem, though, as they were filthy filthy. Really dirty from the previous night’s loving escapades.

“Yes,” I said to her, truthfully. “Her voice is intensely interesting. I have no idea what she looks like. She might weigh four hundred pounds, look like a shaved Shar-Pei, and she might be a ‘B-word’, a real bitch, an absolute meanie. I have no idea. I just don’t know. I do know, though, that I love you and always will. Period.” She giggled at the description I provided regarding the southern belle barrister. I kissed her.

“I haven’t flown on an airplane in a really long time. It was never Sherri’s intention to take me anywhere. Ever. I wound up on a trip when they couldn’t get anyone to look after me, when I was fifteen, I guess. I think I could have stayed by myself, but it was probably Doug’s way of letting me do something besides stay at home. You know, the more I think about Sherri, the less I like her.”

“I know what you mean. Me, too. I’ll make sure you have fun. I’ll even try to make it special. Maybe I’ll talk to the pilot and see if he’ll let you go up to the front and look around. It’s pretty cool up there.” Another smile. So, naturally, another kiss.

She reached down and took hold of my little friend, squeezing gently. “Come shower with me, Charlie. I really want to do everything I can to make you happy with me. My little kitty is going to be out of commission for a bit, though. I feel like I just won a sit up contest, too, however, I could still use some soap, and some...” I jerked her up off the bed, threw her over my shoulder and ran into the shower, with her laughing all the way.

We had a lot of fun together over the weekend, not doing much in the way of anything but recreation and chores. We’d fold laundry, then find a movie to watch, whether it was on Netflix or at the movie theater. Whatever we wanted to see, we went and watched. Home, the theater here, down in the city, it all depended on what was playing. Dinner after? Dinner before? Either would work. Once we did both. It was a really long movie, we ate light before, and had a snack after. It was just living in the moment. She asked when the fairytale would end, and we’d wake up.

I had to explain to her again that I didn’t work, I had invented something special, then upgraded it, gaining myself another small fortune, and then once again invented another technological wonder that will keep me from filling out an I-9 for the rest of my life. There will be no need for me to work for someone else. Ever. No need. Especially now. Boredom was not, and is still not my enemy, and her presence was certainly insuring that will never happen.

I still dabble and if I come up with some wicked crazy idea, I’ll chase it down like I did before, but I don’t need to do that to survive. If I do it, it’ll be because I want to and have fun doing it. My investments are taking care of me and I’m diversified well enough that even the Corona Virus Pandemic market crash didn’t do much more than set me back about an eighth of my wealth. It should come back over the next few years, worst case, and I should be OK in the long term. There are no guarantees, but I have some of my good fortune in some pretty stable assets just to make sure I can eat better than canned dog food in my golden years. Gold, guns, technology, and healthcare products investments to name a few.

After the conversation, she told me she still wants to make stuff, but she felt that if I was already making stuff, maybe we could make stuff together. Another smile, and another kiss. I liked the way this lady was thinking!

Friday, Miss Carlisle called back giving us times and locations. The prosecutor’s office was on Pryor Street, in downtown Atlanta, just a bit off Peachtree. They needed us on Tuesday morning, late, saying they’d like to begin around ten o’clock. It wouldn’t take very long, since we didn’t have much information, but what little we had, namely Donna loaning her phone to Sherri on that day, was a stunner for the prosecution.

I had her in my lap Friday evening, sitting in the office in front of the computer screen and talking about where she might want to stay, to make it easy for us, when we saw the Peachtree area and got a closer look. We could stay up near the Peachtree Center and Uber all over the place. There were even a couple of restaurants that popped up as we were searching for favorites that caught our attention.

We both loved Mexican. Donna hadn’t had as much exposure, but I planned on changing that. I planned on changing everything for her. She deserved better. A well-reviewed place called Alma Cocina was just around the corner from the Ritz. I wanted to try that one, but a friend had also mentioned a steak place he said was worth a shot as well.

Morton’s, The Steakhouse, he called it. He thought the bone-in ribeye he had there was wonderful, as was the rest of the meal, so, being the rebel that I am, I’d ask for a porterhouse and see what happens. I couldn’t wait.

I mentioned we were going down Monday, spend the evening walking and dining, then after being ‘deposed’, spend the afternoon shopping and goofing off, and having a nice dinner that night before we come home on Wednesday. I told her she needed a nice outfit with her for Tuesday evening. I promised to look good enough to be seen with her AND that I’d make it worth her while. She gave me another of her wonderful smiles. Another kiss was earned, too.

Monday morning, late, we took off for the airport. When we headed south on 61 instead of east on 70, she questioned my navigation.

“Charlie, is this a shortcut to the airport? I looked last night, and it’s east on 70 from the house.”

“Which airport?”

“Hang on.” She tapped on her phone a few times. “Lambert?”

“No, this is not a shortcut to Lambert. It’s the normal cut” to Spirit of St. Louis Airport.”

“Oh.” She looked at her phone, then turned to me with a questioning look. “Why?”

“Because Lambert is too big and too busy. The pilot doesn’t like it there. You wanted to see in the cockpit, yes?”

“Sure. Sounds like fun.”

I let it go for a while, until we got to the hangar and opened it. She saw the little plane and didn’t see anyone else around. She put her hands on her hips and made a feeble attempt to frown at me through a smile. “Just exactly when did you talk to this pilot and what is this pilot’s name. You know, the one that is going to let me ‘see the cockpit’,” she demanded of me as she air quoted. “First, middle, AND last names, please.” Thankfully, she was smiling.

“Last night after you went to sleep in my arms, and his name is Charles Corwin Curry, Captain, United States Air Force, Retired. I love you, Donna, but I wanted to surprise you. Let’s get our stuff on board, pull the little lady out, do the preflight inspection, and I’ll tell you all about it as we prepare to leave this stuffy joint.”

She shook her head, smiling. We put our bags in the hold, save the little cooler bag with the water and snacks in it. Then I pulled the plane out, put the tractor back, and did the preflight, holding her hand and showing her each thing I was doing. She was interested and truthfully, it was fun doing it with someone else. I probably did a better job of it since I was sharing in detail what I was doing with her as I went.

I took her upstairs, closed the door, and helped her sit in the right seat. She looked at me, still stunned, but with a smile, albeit a strange smile. Think scared to death, but happy about it. It was indeed a strange situation. I’d seen it before, but the woman wanted the plane, not the pilot, so she never came aboard again.

“I’ve never done this before.”

“That was true the other night as well, Thursday night before Miss Carlisle called with our appointments, wasn’t it, and yet you lived through that?”

“Yes, but that was with you. I was making love to you. With you. I love you.”

“Well, not to sound silly, but this is with me, too, and I love you just as much. Donna, this isn’t my first flight. It’s not even my two hundredth. Not even my two hundredth in this plane! Baby doll, just watch, listen, and have fun, OK? I want you in my life. This is part of my life. I want you to enjoy it, too. It’s fun. You’ll see.” She smiled at me, relieving my fears of her possibly having extreme levels of apprehension about flying with me.

I spoke to the tower, getting clearance and watching Donna as the conversations happened. She didn’t understand much of it, but it’s mostly numbers and such that don’t mean anything to you if you aren’t the pilot on that particular taxiway heading for that particular runway. The quick and complicated mention of the weather conditions by the controller really baffled her, sounding like gibberish, I’m sure, but I nodded and smiled, so she understood that I knew what they were telling me, and I’d explain it later. She was getting information as if it was water through a firehose and was overwhelmed, but as we all know, once you know what the data is, you also know how to use it and store it. She surmised that and seemed to relax. All new things need to be processed and accepted.

The engines ran up as I pushed the throttle levers forward. Her face shone brightly; her eyes were wide with enchantment. She was grinning ear to ear when I pulled back on the yoke and lifted off the runway. That made me smile. I wanted her to enjoy flying with me. I loved doing it. I’ll do it more, the closer we get, if that’s even possible, since I really do run around a lot. I’m not exactly a jet setting playboy, but I have friends in different places and love to join them, mostly to just go fishing. That gets me around a bit. A couple of favorites are Seattle and San Diego. I also have friends that live in Arcadian Shores, South Carolina, and Orange Beach, Alabama, both having homes right on the beach. I can’t wait for Donna to meet them. I think they’ll get along famously. Both are girls I met in flight school, both are amazing people, and both were and are just close friends.

After landing at the Fulton County airport, we headed for the hotel. I opted for Uber rides since we were only here for a couple of days, just one full one, and I, well, we, didn’t have anywhere special outside the city center to go. Dinner and some shopping were the only things planned other than the depositions.

She was impressed with the hotel, the Ritz-Carlton downtown, but it was a bit dated. Nice, yes, but it wasn’t a place to seek out just for the luxurious environs, if that’s the way you leaned. I thought it was nice, but I really just liked the location. We could do anything we wanted on foot, including walking to the depositions at the prosecutor’s office, although we opted to call for a ride to take us the several city blocks in the humid atmosphere that would meet us in the morning.

After we freshened up a bit, deciding not to change out of our casual attire, me in khakis, an untucked button up and boat shoes, and her in a super cute pastel green short shorts set and high heeled sandals, we went up the street to the Mexican restaurant we looked up. Good choice, too. We had a great meal, and shared a huge mango margarita, one I would just about return for. Just that. Fly from Missouri to Atlanta for another mango margarita. We laughed about that, but noticed we were laughing regarding just about anything and everything. Must’ve been some very good tequila. Smooth, sneaky, and in large quantities. I ordered another for dessert.

“Donna, have I told you today how beautiful you are, how nice you look, how pretty your legs are in those sandals, and how much I love you?”

She giggled a tequila giggle. “You didn’t mention the shoes, but the rest has been mentioned. I love that you love me, Charlie. I love that you find me attractive. I want to attract you. Buy me nice clothes that YOU like, hon, and I will dress for you. Only you, but I will make sure I am what you desire. You know, you are a very handsome man, Charlie. Very much so. I’m so happy you don’t like greedy women.” She was grinning and trying not to laugh. “Seriously, I’m not. I want you for who you are, not what you have. I would still marry you if you were just Charlie the teacher, or Charlie the IT technician, or ... Even if we had to live off my forty-nine hundred bucks. I can’t seem to make any of it go away. I may need help, Charlie.”

“I promise, darling, I will help you spend some of it tomorrow afternoon. I promise. Big promise. I hope you like lingerie and stockings and high heels and short skirts and hot pants and ... short dresses?” I had to laugh at myself losing track of where I was going with that. “I like sexy clothes. You are a sexy girl. Will you be my sexy wife?”

“Yes. Will you be my hunky future husband and take me back to the hotel and ravish my little body with your tongue and use your big cockly thing to screw me into the mattress?”

“I’ll try, baby doll, but I have a funny feeling that I’m going to ravish you a little and then Mister Cuervo or Miss Suarez will gently talk me into falling asleep as I do. I hope I don’t fail you miserably this soon in our relationship!”

“If you ravish me and fall asleep between my legs with your lips on my kitty, I will marry you tomorrow. Or maybe we can just get hitched tonight on the way back to the hotel. Either one. I’m easy. Kinda. The purveyors of Mexican liquor be damned.” It was funny. To us, anyway. If anyone else heard it, probably not, but in our condition, sharing the second of two very, very large, smooth mango margaritas, it was really, really funny. I paid the bill, left a generous tip for our server after her laughing at my bride-to-be and me sharing the alcoholic wonders, then we walked hand in hand back to the hotel.

“Charlie, you’ll never fail me as long as you hold my hand and love me. I’m sure someday something will happen that keeps us from having a wonderful lovemaking session, but don’t ever let it bother you. I told you I read. I read a lot. I know life is not perfect. I think, though, with you, it will be as close as humanly possible.”

I stopped her right there on the sidewalk, took her in my arms and kissed her. “I love you, Donna Grant. Thank you for being such an adult. One of the problems adults have is that adult things bite them in their adult asses.”

“Like the quitilla in those magno martergitas?” She giggled.

“Yeah, baby, something like that.” I laughed at her murdering the words as she talked about our drinks. “Take me to bed, lover. Make my life complete.” I picked her up, held her tightly, received an offered kiss with her holding onto my neck for dear life, a foot off the ground, then upon setting her down, was summarily whisked off to the hotel. Once there, I was also summarily accosted and reduced to a pile of goo. Merely human rubble left with just a fraction of the energy I’d had out on the sidewalk. Sleep came easily.

Eight o’clock found us waking, maybe a bit slowly due to the previous evening’s activities, but waking just the same, in each other’s arms.

“Donna, have I mentioned how much I love you?”

“No. Not today, but the day is young. Very young. Go pee and meet me in the shower. Then mention the heck out of it. I love hearing it.” She kissed my nose and pushed me out of bed. We had a suite with a nicely appointed bathroom. The toilet was in a separate alcove, but I could hear the shower and the humming of a cute little redheaded girl start at about the same time. I finished and made my way, not stopping for anything. I had to get my hands, my soapy hands, on my little sprite.

She enjoyed it, too. I shampooed her hair, then as I finished washing her, I used my fingers and some soap to bring her some pleasure down below. Carefully, with my fingers of one hand along her lower lips, a knuckle on her clitoris, and a finger of the other hand teasing her rear entrance, I helped her to another orgasm. She slumped, knowing I’d catch her and hold her until she could stand on her own.

She returned the favor, soap, and all, working my erection in her tiny hands until I came into her mouth for a spurt or two, and finished on her chest. She just held my member there between her breasts until I started breathing normally, then pulled me down for a kiss. What a wonderful way to start the day.

As we were drying, I used the app for an Uber to pick us up just before ten. It was only a couple of minutes to where we needed to be, and I wanted to have breakfast before we left. We had plenty of time, since it took neither of us long to finish our messy little shower.

After breakfast, we met the Uber at the front entrance and were dropped off at the county building at about five minutes ‘til ten. Checking in, we were asked to have a seat in the main lobby, and after just a minute or two, busy talking to each other, we heard the click, click, click, of high heels. I looked up at the sight of a gorgeous woman.

“Charlie Curry? Donna Grant?” We nodded. “Marilyn Carlisle.” She reached out, first to Donna, then to me, and shook our hands. “I hope your travels have been ‘satisfactory’,” she said, emphasizing the word satisfactory and making light of my earlier request. Donna laughed. I turned red.

“Oooh, he’s a bit sensitive, isn’t he? Welcome to Atlanta. Let’s go upstairs and talk for a couple of minutes, then we’ll get you into the deposition proceedings.” We rose to follow her, Donna looking at me and grinning.

Marilyn Carlisle was most men’s wet dreams come true. She was a tanned blonde bombshell in a short pencil skirt business suit, a blouse that allowed just a hint of a gorgeous cleavage, and legs that needed no description other than the word ‘perfect’, unless someone would want to add ‘beautifully’ beforehand. She was tall, for a woman, just shorter than me in her heels, and had substantial assets in her upper body area. I mean her shoulders and all, you know. Her suit jacket showed she was extremely trim in the middle, creating an absolute hourglass shape with her thin waist, yet had only a modest and perfectly shaped bottom.