Chapter 72: A Home On St. Croix. A Detailed Email

Mark

The real estate agent pulled up at our villa with a small minibus that could accommodate about fifteen people. We piled in and were on our way to see the first property. As we drove along, the agent, a woman named Elisha Rhodes, used the PA system on the small bus to brief us about the property we were about to see. She seemed thorough and had done her homework on each of the ones we saw that day. A few questions got asked, and she had ready answers for each of them.

Sheila had been interacting with Elisha to tell about our unique family and requirements for a vacation home in a warm clime, and to line up some of the properties we’d see.

The third one was the winner of the three, and in our price range there were no others for sale. The asking price was fifteen million. The price range was something that Sheila had set based on comparable properties on St. Croix and other Caribbean islands.

The property sat on three acres with four hundred feet of beach frontage. One side was a nature preserve, and the other side was an uneven rocky tor for three hundred yards that belonged to the local government. The result was a large amount of privacy and the unlikelihood of ever having nearby neighbors. The house was modern, new, built to Miami-Dade building code that became the norm in storm-infested waters after Hurricane Katrina. Further, the building was elevated so even a significant storm surge wouldn’t affect the house.

The house had a flat roof, eight bedrooms, eight baths, huge kitchen, open plan living, central air if we chose to use it, a pool, and a very private beach. Elisha confessed that some of the locals snuck onto the beach to sun and swim in the nude. When she said that our presence would end that practice we all looked crestfallen. She laughed and affirmed that she’d put the word out that nude bathing was still allowed, if that was what we wanted. We all nodded and that just made Elisha laugh harder.

We had a unanimous vote for house number three. We could all see ourselves using this as our warm weather getaway, especially during the terrible winters the city endured. I immediately wrote out an offer, pending inspections and clear title, and submitted it and a check for a million dollars to the realtor. Based on Sheila’s recommendation, I’d bid twelve million cash for the house and furnishings. To our surprise the offer was accepted unconditionally that evening.

Elisha arranged for the house inspections the next day. Lucas went to accompany the inspectors to the property so he could take a closer look regarding the installation of security cameras, wiring, alarm sensors, and the like. I left it to him to get everything he wanted installed and operating the way he wanted. He also wanted to create an armored safe room in the house, and make a few modifications regarding the security team that accompanied us. The inspection cleared, and the title proved clear and insurable.

We (I) owned a villa on the island of St. Croix, in the U.S. Virgin Islands, or would after the closing a few weeks later. We cheered and toasted our new home at dinner that night at one of the restaurants in Christiansted. People in the restaurant wondered what was happening, but only learned that our crowd had a happy event we all shared.

Tuesday, we flew home. I sat in the jump seat so I could watch Cindy and Elsa fly the Citation. The jet was far beyond my capabilities at that point, but every little thing fascinated me. Cindy was in the left seat and Elsa in the right or copilot’s seat. This trip, Cindy was the PIC and Elsa was SIC. Again, they’d dressed in their short dark skirts – commando, of course; black flats; and their white shirts with epaulets on the shoulder containing their captain’s stripes. They were hyper-efficient, crisp, and constantly used their checklists. Neither took anything for granted on the hop back to the continental U.S. They talked to me about cockpit management, especially with a two-person crew.

I listened on my headset as we neared home base. Cindy handled the radio as she dialed in a new heading on the autopilot. “City Approach Control, November Two Mike Whiskey with you out of fifteen thousand for six thousand. We have information Kilo at City Airport, and we filed for the GPS approach at The Meadows airport on runway zero two.” Below five thousand, the weather was VFR enabling us to make a clean visual approach rather than having to rely on instruments.

“Radar contact Two Mike Whiskey. Continue descent and proceed on course. Airport is VFR. You are cleared for the visual to zero two at The Meadows.”

Elsa replied, “Cleared for the visual runway zero two The Meadows. Two Mike Whiskey.”

As we neared The Meadows, Cindy called in on our Unicom frequency to announce our impending arrival in case Wes or Scott were using the airport, but we heard nothing in reply. Both Cindy and Elsa kept a diligent scan outside the plane for other aircraft. We were cruising along at about twice the speed of the smaller Cessnas and Pipers that frequented the area on training flights.

I’d done enough instrument flying to understand the entire communication sequence. We’d flown most of the way northwest at forty thousand feet until about twenty minutes earlier when Memphis Center had started us down in altitude. We’d been handed off to Kansas City Center, and now to City Approach. I wondered why I hadn’t become as enthralled with flying as I was now earlier in my life. Wes was right; this was almost as good as sex.

Cindy and Elsa ran through six major checklists for approach and landing. We lined up for our little airport’s runway turning onto the runway heading and lining up about ten miles from touchdown. The gear went down and the trim stabilized the aircraft as the flaps deployed at the five-mile mark. We had a nice steady descent and approach right down to the runway flare and touchdown. Very smooth flying. We kissed the runway going about a hundred-and-sixty miles an hour, rolled out, used the thrust reversers to slow the aircraft, and then taxied to our hangar.

Four of the security guards drove golf carts down to meet our plane. They stood by as the engines spooled down, and then as Elsa deployed the stairway and greeted them. We loaded up the golf carts with luggage and as we stood around the security staff rushed that load up to the house, set it aside and then returned for the passengers. By that time, Elsa and Cindy had the hangar open and were using the small tug to maneuver the jet backwards into the hangar as the rest of us watched their proficiency. The next day a load of jet fuel would arrive in a tank truck for the jet.

I couldn’t back a trailer down a boat ramp to launch a small boat. I know. I tried. The two of them casually backed the twenty million dollar jet into the hangar without a second’s hesitation or false step. They chocked the wheels, disconnected the tug, parked the small vehicle, and then shut the hangar doors. They rode up to the house with me in the last golf cart.

Barnes had left us a buffet dinner in chafing dishes on the kitchen counter – a delicious pot roast, potatoes, and vegetables. He’d left us a fresh salad in the refrigerator as well, and set out some recommended wine to go with the meal. The twelve of us partook of the meal, and then the men in our traveling party headed off back to the city so they’d be at their apartments near work the next morning as the week started.

As we sat around after eating, I asked Elsa, “I meant to ask you, what happened to those two couples you were talking to on Thursday evening when we were sitting in the lounge at The Conch? For a few minutes, I thought you were going to have them join us in that evening’s sexual activities.”

Elsa gave me a devilish grin and teased, “What? Did you want some new pussy?”

“No, no, no. I’m just curious. I heard the start of that conversation with you and the wives, but I got to dancing and didn’t hear the end of it. They were gone later and I didn’t think much more about it until now.”

Actually, I did recall meeting Ellen and Sarah. They were both young, sexy women, especially Ellen. Heck, yes, I’d like some of that pussy. I’m a guy.

Elsa said in a coy tone, “I did something kind of naughty.” Despite that feeling, she seemed rather proud of whatever it was that she’d done.

“Why does that not surprise me in the slightest. What did you do? Cindy was in on it too, right?”

“Yes, Cindy and I conspired to set up a foursome for those two couples – a wife swap, if you will. Sarah was the most reluctant one, but she finally admitted she thought Terry was sexy and that she’d like to be with him. Wade was hot for Ellen and vice versa, so I explained how they should proceed to maximize their arousal, orgasms, and satisfaction. You would have blushed to hear how detailed I was, but I thought they needed the remedial instruction about how to get started once they were in one of their hotel rooms. I also explained how they should remain together and end the evening with their partner so that they could reaffirm their love and commitment.”

“You could sell ice to Eskimos.”

“It wasn’t a hard sell. Mostly, I talked from personal experience plus what I’d learned from some of the married couples we carouse with: Andy and Margo, Don and Edie, and Jon and Amber. Terry and Ellen were on board, but Ward and Sarah just needed some self-assurance and a little nudge towards a big bed with someone else. Walking them through what the rest of their evening could be like seemed to help.”

“Where’d you send them?”

“They went off to Ward and Sarah’s hotel room since their hotel was closer to the restaurant. I did get their email addresses and gave them mine, so I might hear back from them sometime.”

“If you do, let me know. I hope it worked out for them. They were nice people, and yes, if either of those pussies became available I would certainly love to be involved in some physical way. Invite them to one of our parties.” I gave her my best lecherous grin.

Elsa

When I opened my email a week or so after Mark had asked about the two couples we met, the one from Sarah stood out as long and detailed. I couldn’t wait to read it, but I saved it to read at home that evening. I figured the results from the swap session I’d aimed them at could have gone either way based on how tentative she was the night we met.