Haley's Bunch - Cover

Haley's Bunch

Copyright© 2019 by oyster50

Chapter 15

Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 15 - Haley's a Smart Girl.  She's part of the Smart Girl universe, and this is the continuation of a saga that started when she was twelve in Neighbors.  If you start there, then go to Bill and Haley, and then Bill and Haley and Deena, you'll get the whole story, except you won't, because they tie into the rest of the Smart Girl universe and you need to Start with Cindy  and Nikki and Christina, then the 'Community' series.  It's a big universe. 

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   ft/ft   Consensual   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Incest   Sister   Father   Daughter   Group Sex   Polygamy/Polyamory   Cream Pie   First   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Geeks  

Bill Simon’s turn:

I’m watching Haley and Deena, here at the Auburn Pavilion. Thankfully, I have good company, since both Dans and Alan have invited me to join them, while our wives are raising havoc, partly with Bill Hardesty - he’s ‘Bill 3.0’, and then with each other. Laughter is a major part of it, of course.

Dan Richards looked at me and said, “Bill, you’re looking preoccupied. What’s on your mind?”

I said, “Gents, there’s an old Bible phrase somewhere -- I’d have to look it up, and I dunno if it actually applies. But I’m watching those girls and thinking, “You have sown the wind, now you shall reap the whirlwind.” Kinda looks like the whirlwind over there, wouldn’t you say?”

Both Dans and Alan laughed aloud, nodding in agreement. Alan said, “Bill, any ONE of ‘em is a whirlwind. Together, they’re a hurricane. We messed up somewhere. Probably shoulda kept ‘em pregnant in the summer, and all that. Somewhere there’s a perfectly good double-wide wondering what’s keeping me away.”

Dan 2.0 said, “Yup, that and a good fishing boat, with a nice beer cooler, loaded with Shiner. Now here we are, with our wives racing ahead of us. And we’re wondering how to deal with all the money, and the taxes we have to pay on it. Life is rough, and it all could have been much simpler, for a Cajun like me.”

Dan 1.0 started singing, “Put another log on the fire, boil me up some bacon and some beans… “ to a bit of laughter.

Alan said, “That right there sounds like Jethro Sebastian Bach, don’t it?”

I said, “Guys, you’re all seriously warped! But the latest I’m hearing is that Cindy wants Haley to get with Hanna, and both of ‘em are supposed to go to Orlando for PC-12 school. Dunno how that’s gonna work.”

The Dans grinned at each other, and Dan 1.0 said, “Bill, I’m guessing Cindy thinks it’s cheap insurance. When Haley and Hanna get back, they’ll be experts, and we can start pushing more of our remote contracts your way. They’re seriously profitable, and your crews will enjoy the money.”

I said, “Gents, I don’t see why the school is needed. Hanna’s beyond qualified, and Haley’s already pretty good. Cindy could sign ‘em off on the PC-12 herself after a bit of training.”

“I can’t speak for Cindy,” Alan inserted, “And that’s probably good for my continued sanity, but I’m guessing she figures both of ‘em will pay better attention to the factory guys, and they may include things that Cindy ignores. More importantly, they have all those simulator drills, so Haley and Hanna will be getting all the emergency stuff, which is a big deal. Kinda hard to approximate that stuff, and it’s nice to figure that they’ll be able to overcome any problems.”

“That could be part of it,” Dan 1.0 said. “There’s probably a bit of ‘I’d spend a lot of time doing this when I could be doing other things, it’d be my FIRST ‘from scratch’ effort, and those people do it for a living’, and she’s happy with what that school presents. I mean, that bunch in Dallas has a Level D simulator. That means they can deliver the training without using real aircraft.”

“Well, at six hundred bucks an hour, it won’t take long for that to be a viable option,” I said.

“Dallas has some FINE steakhouses,” Alan said. “So, you know, turn a few contacts into some business meetings over dinner…”

“Noted,” I laughed. “As long as I can sneak a couple of apprentices in…”

“Oh, noooo,” Dan 1.0 snickered. “We NEVER allow that…”

Haley’s turn:

Saturday morning, and we were up “sorta” early, having spent a raucous evening over at the Pavilion. We stepped over to the Pavilion with Dan and Cindy for breakfast. Exceptional coffee, as usual. Too bad we can’t enjoy more, but we have to fly back to Dukes today.

Cindy was rubbing it in, sipping her SECOND cup, when she said, “Bill, Deena, Haley, I’d like to assign you a chore, today. You up for it?”

Bill’s eyebrows went up, and I asked, “Umm. What do you have in mind, Doctor Cindy?” She knows I’m messing with her when I use her title.

“I was thinking,” she said.

Dan 1.0 groaned. “Here we go…”

Cindy gave him a look. I have a look like that. Says, “you’re being aggravating and I love you.” She continued, “We’re going to be tight on hangar space here, and we want to put Hanna at your place anyway. Haley, why don’t you take Lenya over to Birmingham, leave her there, and take Hanna home with you? I already checked with Wally, and he doesn’t have a cargo flight until tomorrow.”

I nearly choked, and said, “Cindy, we haven’t been to the school yet. Are you sure?”

She said, “Yup. To my satisfaction, you’re ready, and having Hanna at Dukes will make it easier for you and “the other Hanna” to get over to Dallas. And we MIGHT have a couple of crew transports for you in the interim.”

She turned to Bill and said, “Bill, you and Deena could take the 185 and fly VFR to Dukes, directly. Even with the aircraft swap, Haley would still arrive at about the same time, or maybe a bit later. Sound good?”

Deena said, “Cindy, I wanna ride with Haley, if it’s all the same to you. We’re sisters, you know.”

“Whatever you guys want, I don’t care,” Cindy said. “Now, the only problem I see is that you guys don’t have Jet A at your place, so you’ll have to refuel at the big airport when you get back. You really need to work with Russ Brown on that problem.”

“I think we’ll be OK on the fuel issue, Cindy,” Bill said. “Russ owes us a favor. What size tank do you think we’d need?”

Cindy said, “Well, it’s about four hundred gallons for a full refuel, so I’d guess a two thousand gallon tank would work. We have two of those, but we’re running more PC-12’s, and we have Wally’s spray rigs. Your bulk fuel guy is gonna love you, so maybe y’all could give him some cookies.”

Deena’s turn:

That “cookies” idea made me and Haley smile, and Cindy’s cookies are REALLY good, so we took some of her spices when we went back to her house to retrieve our bags. She said she’d email her recipe so we’ll have it when we get back. Kitchen time is in our future.

I’ve never actually ridden right seat in a PC-12 like Haley has, so I was watching carefully as Haley did the pre-flight, the departure from 3S field, the (short) flight over to Birmingham, the landing, and the taxi to the 3S ramp. Wally was waiting for us on the ramp, with Hanna already rolled out.

We stepped down, and Wally said, “Ladies, good morning, and if you’ll fill out the logs, I’ll run the shut-down checklist while you pre-flight the other bird. Dunno why Cindy wanted to make the swap, but I’m sure she has her reasons.”

We made sure we spent a bit of social time with Wally, stowed our stuff in Hanna, and started the pre-flight. My second time Haley got me to do the preflight on my own, and it’s beginning to make more sense. We did all that, and headed inside for a precautionary bathroom stop. Hey, when you’re flying, don’t EVER pass up a chance to pee.

We grabbed some fruit juices, and Haley filed a flight plan, although we don’t need it. VFR would be OK today, but she wants the hours. She explained that we could do VFR but we’d have to stay below flight level 180, and fuel economy and speed get better with altitude. Go figure. Yeah, I know… “Deena, look at the tables in the pilot handbook”. It’s obvious.

Not only that, but we have an app for the iPads that allows us to balance economy choices – fuel burnt on climbing versus fuel burn at low altitude for shorter flights.

We stepped back out for Hanna, and Wally had a couple other (older) guys there. He said, “Ladies, I think you already know Don Matzke, but this guy is Geno Haugen -- he’s our new company President.”

We shook hands, smiled, all that. Geno said, “Ladies, we won’t delay you any further. Go ahead and mount up, but next time you’re back this way, could you bring us some mud-bugs?”

“Crawfish?” I asked, “Already cooked or fresh, sir?”

He laughed and said, “Cooked, probably. We’re NOT Cajuns, so your way is probably better than ours.”

“Oh, they have to be cooked right in front of you,” I said. “Dragging cooked ones around is a travesty.“

Haley said, “If cooked is what you want, you might want to join us over at Auburn in December. I think there’s a fly-in coming up in a few weeks, and Cindy said they want about two hundred pounds of fresh ones. There might be enough to feed you.”

Wally hooted, and both Don and Geno grinned. We headed back around to the cockpit door, but I heard Geno say, “Wally, I do believe Cindy is brewing up a Cajun posse. I don’t think there’s much they can’t do.”

Haley’s turn:

Nominal flight back over to Dukes Field, but we had to land at the big airport first, for a refuel. About a hundred forty gallons, this time. I LOVE this bird, but if fuel economy is what you wanted, this ain’t it, and I’m glad our company Signature card works here.

Then, a couple of texts, and it’s a short hop back over to Dukes Field, where we landed to a CROWD, including Mr. Dukes, Matt and Sandy, Greg and Hanna. Hanna, who got a big smile when she read “Hanna“, about 2 inches high, in script, under the cockpit window.

Mister Dukes. You just KNOW I had to get him into the cockpit.

He eased back into that plush co-pilot’s seat, wiggled himself in. “Lord, Haley-girl. This is plumb decadent.”

“Ain’t it?” I grinned, powering up the electronic panel.

Another “Lord!” he laughed. “I ain’t dumb enough to think it’s that complicated, darlin’, but for us old guys and our round gauges, this is almost frightening.”

“You get to see it live, if you want…”

“Thing like this is gotta cost a fortune to operate…”

“Yessir, and what good is money if you can’t spend a bit to make your friends happy? I got a plane-load, so you don’t have to feel too bad.”

That was the case. We flew Hanna in with a full complement of seats and now they were full. After I re-started, I heard Bill call on the radio, announcing his arrival to the big airport’s tower. I know he heard me announcing our departure.

“Okay, Mister Dukes,” I said. “This is the cool part!”

Thirty degrees flaps. Rotate at seventy-four knots. Less than two thousand feet, easy. And the acceleration.

“Puts you back in yer seat like an empty four-fifty Stearman and then some,” Mister Dukes said.

“Twelve hundred horsepower.”

“Mighty impressive, Haley-girl,” he said.

“Are you seeing what’s going on there on the display?”

“I am. Boy, if I’d’a had something like this when I was twenty…” He looked at me, grinned. “Hell, you ain’t even twenty…”

The big circle around town burnt up fifty or sixty gallons because we stayed low. And yes, Mister Dukes on the control yoke.

I put her back on the ground, off-loaded the gang, picked up fresh…

Bill in the right seat. “You’re usin’ a lot of juice for airplane rides, baby…”

I have a defense. “Cindy said to give everybody a ride. I just HAD to get Mister Dukes in here.”

“I’ll give you that one… But when we finish, she stays parked unless it’s a money-maker.”

“Yessir. Uh, maybe Hanna and I can do a trip…”

“Money.”

“Yessir.”

“Go back to the Stearman or the 185.”

“Yessir.”

“You’re not gonna listen to me, are you?” he laughed.

“I’m listening. Now give Hanna your seat.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Hanna settled in. I pointed out the adjustments so she was comfortable.

“You are crazy. Cindy is crazy,” she said, adjusting her headset. “And this is beautiful.”

“What’s Greg think?” I asked.

“Greg is much like your husband. He works. He loves his wife. Wishes her happy. If there is a way – his schedule, empty seat, he will fly with me sometime. I do not think he has the mind of the pilot for these things, though.”

“He’s an ag pilot,” I noted.

“Yes. From helicopter pilot hunting tanks to ag pilot, seeding fields, killing pests. He has no heart for straight and level.”

“I don’t know what I want, at least when it comes to flying,” I intimated. Hanna has given me a lot of training in aerobatics, both in our Stearman and her Extra.

Switching between the two platforms, the Stearman is almost ponderous, but it has its own sense of timeless ‘rightness’, knowing that thousands of pilots went from it to other purpose-built aircraft like World War II fighters. I’ve heard that most of those, while capable of aerobatics, were also not the best examples of agility, having been designed for war instead of by giving a German dude a blank sheet of paper and telling him that the goal is building the ultimate aerobatic machine.

We stopped burning fuel for pure enjoyment when the propeller stopped spinning on the apron in front of the new hangar. I look at her, look over at the Stearman, marvel at the advances between the two aircraft.

We push the Pilatus back into her hangar and on the way back to the office, I stop to pat the ol’ Stearman. “Don’t worry, ol’ thing. I love you. You got soul.”

What?!? You don’t ascribe life to inanimate objects? How sterile your world must be.

Cindy on the phone afterward for a debrief.

“Absolutely nominal,” I told her. “But I NEED that training.”

Later, talking with Cindy: Giggle. “You NEED that training. That facility in Dallas is in your future. They have that Level D simulator. Oughta be fun.”

“Me ‘n’ Hanna are looking forward to it.”

“Everybody liked the ride?”

“Yep. Nobody barfed. Shoulda seen Mister Dukes’ face light up.”

“I love being able to give a gift like that,” Cindy said. “Fun’s over, though. Just remember that this isn’t something like a sports car. Truth is, it’s a work truck, and it won’t stop on a dime.”

“Amen to that. I was on pins and needles on landing, but you know, there’s a time where you just buckle down and do what you know to do.”

“You got it, sister,” Cindy said. “Don’t be afraid to grab yourself a copilot, either. Get ‘em familiar. Heaven knows…”

“You got me salivating over that PC-24 now…”

“Whole ‘nother ball game,” she tittered. “Believe me, as soon as I can get MY hands on ‘er…”

“Type rating,” I said. “That Dallas school again.”

“Yeah,” Cindy said. “I got the type rating for Cessna 525S. That gives me a bunch, as a single-pilot operator. But the PC-24 and passengers? To be completely legal, that’s an airline transport rating and that means age twenty-five. That’s for paying passengers. I think we can bend the rule for a work crew, but that’s what we have the 12s for.”

“Dunno if the 24 makes sense for me, at least right now. Doesn’t mean I don’t wanna sit in the cockpit, though.”

“Get you a thousand hours and we’ll talk.”

I grinned. “I’m your girl for Hanna.”

“Yeah, Hanna Bertrand. Might be a good deal if the two of you collaborate on the first few flights, you know…”

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