Chapter 5

Bill’s turn:

Haley says Cindy knows. That’s one more. Let’s see. Dave and his bunch. Johanna. Now Cindy. What’s the saying? ‘Two people can have a secret if one of ‘em’s dead’?’ Still, Cindy’s not running around screaming in outrage.

It’s always a worry in the back of my mind. First, I am protective of my girls. I want to be the protector, the provider, the defender, and that includes people thinking poorly of them. Second, I love them. Really love them. The thought of living life without them is horrible to contemplate, especially if ... Third, I’m a criminal. Two crimes, at least – incest and carnal knowledge of a juvenile. Deena’s a year away from getting me out of the second. I don’t know if a court case will take care of the first.

We’ve had many long talks about it, her and I sometimes, other times it’s the three of us.

“I think I built a kink, Dad,” Deena said one day when it was just her and me.

She’s pink, naked, still hot and juicy, and she’s idly playing with my depleted dick, a habit she has.

“A kink?”

“Yeah. I tried calling you ‘Bill’ like Haley does, but it just doesn’t work for me. You’ve always been ‘Dad.’”

“I know. That’s why I’m going to hell...”

“You’re not going to hell,” she purred. “We know the truth. You’re on safe ecclesiastical ground.”

“Punkin,” I said, “What we have going on here would make a priest’s head explode.”

“Only out of ignorance. But you’re ‘Dad’, okay?”

“Hard to protest, layin’ here naked, you know...”

“Don’t wanna stop. We’re a mated pair.”

“Yeah ... much so. And I terribly love you.”

“THAT way?”

“Yeah. That way.”

Giggle. “Back to my kink...”

“Your kink.”

“I notice that if I call you ‘Dad’ or ‘Daddy’ when things’re going on...”

“Yep. I’m definitely going to hell.”

“Nope. Innocent play between two lovers.”

Front door opened, closed, locked, then Haley showed up in the bedroom.

“I’m soooo disappointed in y’all...”

“That we didn’t wait?” Deena snickered.

“That y’all’re both so sticky. All that juice wasted...” she protested as she disrobed.

She made a show of repairing our negligence, leaving Deena orgasmic and me erect and her astride me.

But tonight ... Oh yeah, same old sex ... I’m soooo bored.

Sometime during the night I went from the middle, between Haley and Deena, to the outside, with Haley in the middle. That’s okay. Both of them don’t mind being cuddled in the night.

And it’s Friday night, no schedule for Saturday morning, so...

Haley woke to my suppressed whimper. “You okay, baby?” she asked.

“Yeah. Deena’s biting me.”

“Oh. Kiss me, then...”

One AM is a good time for three orgasms – one apiece, then it ended with Deena squeezing in between me and Haley. “My reward for a good idea.”

It was a good idea.

0800, though, bladder’s more insistent than the non-existent alarm clock on Saturday morning.

I ease out of the bed, intending to return, but while I’m standing there I’m joined by Deena hopping on one foot.

“Haley’s at the other one,” she said. “Hurry.”

I shook the last drops off, dropped the seat, brushed my teeth, by which time Haley was in there with me.

“Waffles,” she said.

“Coffee first,” countered Deena.

“Your daughter,” Haley snickered. “Both.”

Phone rings. Dan 1.0. “Hey, bud!”

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

“Just getting started.”

“Stop. Cindy says...”

I laughed. “Say no more. Where?”

He named a local eatery with a breakfast buffet.

“On the way.”

“See you there.”

“Breakfast out today?” Deena queried.

“We’ve been Cindied.”

“We should’ve solidified plans last night,” Haley said. “Let’s get dressed.”

Task accomplished with minor groping and promises, then out the door.

We converged on the little diner, got the ‘party room’ in the back. Had a good breakfast. Lots of rollicking conversation, arguments over the arrangements for Sandy’s upcoming wedding.

“You should come to Alabama,” Terri said. “We do weddings good.”

“I know,” Sandy said. “And it’s awfully tempting, but we’re gonna need a bigger plane. Got more than two loads.”

“Well, we’ll be down here for you,” Terri replied. “Family does that.”

And talk about Cindy’s up and coming new plane.

And the wedding plans for – wow! – Vicki and Billy Hardesty.

“Bill 3.0,” Cindy said.

Deena harrumphed for effect. “Two married over there that are YOUNGER than me.”

“Three,” Cindy countered, “if we count Rachel...”

“And everybody counts Rachel,” Terri said. “Unofficially, of course.”

“So!” Cindy said, skewering Deena with a a look. “You got somebody in mind?”

I didn’t know Deena could turn that color.

After breakfast, we’re back at the office/airport/home, watching Jerry preflighting that nifty little Sling 4 while Dan 1.0 does the same exercise on a machine almost forty years older.

Terri’s standing next to Deena, a conversation happening that I can’t hear, but I see Deena’s head bobbing, vestiges of a smile, then a grin. She comes over to me. “Jerry’s gonna take me around the patch in the Sling.”

“Okay,” I said. “Gonna be a lot of flying today.”

“I dunno,” Haley said. “Poor ol’ Billy-Bob’s gonna feel sad.” Billy-Bob is the Stearman, the name an homage to his working-class heritage.

“It’s not an open-cockpit kind of day, Baby,” I said.

Conversation got difficult as Jerry cranked up the Sling, Deena grinning in the seat beside him.

““You’re not chaperoning?” I asked Terri.

“Puh-leeze, Bill. That’s MY Jerry, first. That’s YOUR Deena, second. And I know for a fact that autopilot or not, there’s not enough room for the barest vestiges of hanky-panky.” Giggle. “‘Sides, it’s a lot more fun when it’s a bit light.”

“C’mon, baby,” Haley smiled, tugging my hand. “We got a plane to play with.”

“See what you started,” I told Dan 1.0.

Cindy’s got one more task. That’s why we’re pulling the Stearman out into the sunlight, too.

Sandy’s standing there like a schoolgirl with Matt. Today’s his sign-off. While he’s doing that with Cindy, Haley and I and Sandy crank up our (well, it belongs to 3S Transport, but you know... ) 185.

We’re gonna burn a lot of recycled dinosaurs today. The Cessna’s exciting, not because it’s some hotshot high performance aerobatic platform, but because to us it’s NEW. Those forty years since it was wheeled out of the factory didn’t matter. The old girl does what she’s built to do.

We flew around the city, across country to the nearest airport outside the immediate area, landed, did a Chinese fire drill, swapping seats. I ended up in the back seat, Sandy and Haley in the front, Sandy in the pilot’s seat, and we flew back home. I asked about Deena when I saw Terri and Jerry (snicker – poor dude. He’s the Jerrydactyl now, forever colored by who he married) talking with Cindy and Matt.

Just so there’s no doubt about who belongs to whom, Sandy skipped over and tagged Matt with a solid kiss, then “Cindy signed ‘im off.”

Haley snickered, “For taildraggers, or to marry you?”

Cindy doesn’t miss a beat. “Both.”

I cornered Dan 1.0. “Uh, what’d you take with you when you and Cindy went camping in the desert?”

The Alabama contingent took off after lunch, leaving us with a much bigger air fleet than the day before.

Russ Brown showed up in the middle of all this. We watched as the Stearman took off with Sandy and Matt.

“This place is turning out to be fun,” he said.

“We try. Uh ... Might wanna work up a price for a couple more T-hangars. The boss said we’re public now.”

“I can do that. Just add ‘em south of the ones we just built.” He looked over my shoulder. “These your new 185s?”

“Yep. You KNOW you wanna fly one...”

“Got that right, buddy,” He laughed. “If it’s gonna be a Spam can, make it a FUN Spam can.” (Auth. Note: “Spam can” is a derisive term for any of the mass-produced aluminum-constructed general aviation planes from Beech, Piper and Cessna. The Stearman is NOT a Spam can.)

“C’mon,” I said. “You get the left seat.”

“Oh, no, man,” he protested. “I’m a tricycle guy.”

“Matt’s signed off now. He can fix that for you.”

“Why’d I do a thing like that? Haley’s already a legend in that Stearman. Evening news and all.” He surveyed the cockpit after we got in. “This thing’s roomy, though. Colleen might spring for an upgrade...”

“Bigger, faster, carries more, further. Twice the horsepower, twice the fuel cost...” I said.

“Yeah. There is that. My little Warrior’s about as cheap to take care of as they come.”

“You know, if you get the itch, we got the keys. Heaven knows, you’re part of this thing.”

“I appreciate that. I can just see them puttin’ on a barbecue over at Regional like y’all do here.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Russ. We’re gonna do ‘musical fly-ins’ this spring. Soon as John’s getting some good crawfish, we’re gonna bring as much of our Alabama bunch in as we can get. I think we can get almost a dozen planes in here. Have us an old-fashioned country airfield party. And then a couple of weekends later, we’ll do it at the other end, in Alabama.”

“We need to do a little planning,” Russ said. “Get a head count. We need to get the logistics going on this thing.”

“Yeah ... It’s big enough to be an event. Not just our bunch, either. Haley invited Mike Mitchell, the guy who gave us our flight tests. He said something about bringing a T-6 in. That ol’ World War II trainer’ll look good next to our Stearman.