Chapter 11

Teresa’s turn:

Mom’s totally destroyed. I’m standing on a pedestal, a seamstress, a REAL seamstress, is taking measurements for my wedding dress.

“Mom, stop crying, for heaven’s sake...”

“Every time I think about you getting married,” Mom sobbed.

“It’s the expected progression in life. Grow up, leave home, get married...”

“Finish college is in there somewhere,” Vicki said. She’s my co-conspirator. We’re getting married the same day. She’s tagged my little brother, a big surprise, since she’s fourteen. I thought Mom and Dad would freak out, but Cindy and company have seared people’s sense of normality.

“That, too. Don’s adamant about it. And Mom...”

“Yes, Tee.”

“We’re NOT doing that big industrial wedding. Thousands of dollars, okay?”

Mom fingered the fabric, a natural linen. “Should be white.”

“Ask Johanna. White is only ONE tradition. This is very Celtic.”

“But you’re both doing the same thing...”

“I know. Me and my new sister-in-law. And Kimberly started the dress style. It’s kind of a community tradition. You’ve seen it before.”

“I thought it was beautiful. Quirky, but beautiful. Just never imagined you in it...”

Me.

The ceremony’s a formality.

Don and I – faced each other from opposite sides of a chasm of age and experience. Me, I’m a simple Alabama Baptist college girl. He’s a combat vet from the Air Force. Pilot, natch. A-10s.

Faced each other, both tumbled over the cliff, met at the bottom. That’s not how my friends said it was supposed to work. He’s the wrong age, for one thing. Big deal. I’m closer in age to him than a bunch of my friends are to their husbands. That’s because my friends are in that community in Auburn, Alabama.

Answer a request for somebody to show up and wash airplanes at a good hourly rate. Meet Don. Fall head over heels with Don while Don’s tumbling equally hard for me. From meeting and getting introduced to HIS world of flying. He got drawn into my world of music. We appreciate the artistry of each other’s world.

A month, month and a half, we were dating, seriously dating. Perfect gentleman. Old-school manners. Little girls want a guy like Daddy. This is one of those. Except we kissed and cuddled and hugged and I didn’t get a ‘daddy’ vibe. The things that were vibrating were more for a mate than for daddy.

So one night we finished a movie, got a late snack, he’s turning out of the parking lot, headed towards the apartment I share with two other girls, and I put my hand on his arm.

“Don, don’t take me back just yet.”

“Where you wanna go?”

“Your place. Stay up late, with a movie. You don’t have to fly this weekend.”

And forgive me, it’s premeditated, and I don’t have a movie on my mind, not at all. He says he loves me. I believe him. I say I love him. He believes me.

I know, gullible college girl going to a guy’s apartment, right?

First, I’ve been to his apartment before and retained my morals. Second, ain’t gullible. If I was, it was the time that Jimmy Dickson and I were going steady in high school and he was IT. I was dumb. Fell away from good sense, lost my virginity and my parents’ respect in one night over some ‘punch’ at a party.

One stupid time. Lucky I wasn’t pregnant. I think he used a rubber, but I dunno. I wasn ‘t paying much attention, he just got so happy about me with my pants down that he shoved it into me and it HURT. Was over in less than a minute, too...

He acted stupid the next few days, I said I never wanted to see him again, and I returned to what I was taught.

And now I am premeditatedly going to Don’s place. And before he lays a hand on me – okay, he’s already been past the hands-on part – we’re gonna have an understanding.

Cindy says that when she crawled into Dan’s bed, that was the marriage. She figured it out in the days that followed. Just like I figured out with Jimmy Dickson that it WASN’T gonna be a marriage.

We walked in, I kicked off my shoes, waited for him to sit on the sofa, and I snuggled up next to him.

“Don Matzke,” I said, “Truth.”

“Always, Tee.”

“You and me? Married?”

“We’ve talked. Any time we wanna feel normal, we fly down to 3Sigma.”

“Seriously.”

“Okay. Here goes. Teresa Hardesty, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes, I will. Officially. In front of God and family and friends.”

And I laid a kiss on the boy. He kisses good. Should have trophies and certificates. And we spent five minutes of ignoring the movie that was on.

“Don, you’re serious, right?”

“I will love you forever, Tee. Say you’ll...”

“Forever.”

His hand wandered up my back. Sweatshirt. And...

“You’re not wearing a bra, darlin’,” he said. “You know what that does to my mind...”

“You and your imagination, buddy.”

“Look, darlin’, you’re a cute blonde college girl and I’m a middle-aged guy and YOU are the kind of stock from which fantasies are built.”

“Smooth-talkin’ devil,” I said. My next kiss sort of explained things. “Bra’s an impediment. I feel natural like this.”

“I feel something myself...”

Maybe I shouldn’t be so forward, but hey, sometimes ... I reached down. Giggled. “I feel something, too...”

“Tee, stop that. It ain’t fair.”

Cindyism. “Fair’s where you go to buy funnel cakes and cotton candy.” Kissss. “Maybe we NEED some candy...”

“You’re...”

“Dealing with my husband,” I said. “We just exchanged vows. Now, if you’re as serious as I was, then consummation...”

“Last chance for my self-control, darlin’,” he sighed.

“Sometimes control is over-rated.”

Yes, I seduced my husband. This was no furtive coupling in an empty bedroom of a house where the parents weren’t home. This was...

“I told you that I’m really not very experienced, Don. I wanna...”

“You’re my princess, baby.”

I was unbuttoning his shirt, dragging the tail out of his pants. Hairy chest. Long enough to get my fingers into.

He grasped the tail of my sweatshirt, raised it an inch, looked at me. I nodded. The goodies. He gets ‘em.

He went slow with me. We kissed, we hugged we ... I fit myself against him in every imaginable configuration; touched, felt, explored, got the same done to me. The first time I orgasmed and it WASN’T me, it was Don, that night, using gentle, slow fingers.

Finally I pulled him over me. “Don...” and I kissed him as he pushed gently a few times, lining up, lubricating, and then the most wonderful feeling of friction and fullness as he entered me.

I think I died. Had to be heaven. Had to die to get there.

No, no orgasm that way. Not that time. I felt him tense, shudder, felt the warmth and wetness deep inside.

“Sorry, baby. Too much. Couldn’t hold off any longer.”

“What I wanted, darlin’,” I said. “Just hold me and tell me you got another one in you if I let you rest.”

“Absolutely. As long as you don’t jump up and run out of the room crying.”

“Nope. Ain’t gonna happen. You’re stuck with me now.”

“Make it that way,” he said. “Move in.”

“Nope,” I said. “Doesn’t look right. Doesn’t mean I won’t spend the nights here, but I’m not moving in. That takes a ring and a preacher, Don.”

“We’ll do that. Tell your folks. I’ll tell Mom and Dad. And let’s not wait.”

I propped up on an elbow over my resting mate. “I’m not experienced, Don. Seriously. Is this okay?” I touched, then wrapped my fingers around his dick.

“It’s yours, darlin’,” he said.

“But does it feel good when I do this?”

“He gets happy being squeezed and tugged. Don’t grip too hard. The outer skin’ll slide...”

“Oh, it DOES!” That’s neat. So’s the purplish helmet at the end. “I suppose this is the sensitive part?”

“The MOST sensitive part. It’s ALL sensitive,” he said. His hand cupped my breast, measuring, then his head rose, tongue, then suction, and “Ahhhhh! Your mouth...”

“I could eat you up...”

Giggle. “Just there?”

“Everywhere...”

“Sir, you must demonstrate that postulate.”

“College girls is uppity,” he laughed, sliding down the bed. Worked both titties over, good and proper, then my navel and ... Okay, I might’ve pushed his head down there, just a little bit.

What a wonderful way to achieve the second non-Teresa, orgasm. Oh, they come in bunches, like bananas. And turnabout is fair play. I’ve been regaled by girls talking about blowing their boyfriends for a decade now, and there’s no blowing involved.

There is six inches of happy pink flesh that’s a playground for my lips and tongue and teeth, and sucking and kissing and licking and ... Spit? Or swallow? Teresa’s definitely a swallower.

His second.

His third, we went to nirvana together.

“I am now officially forever consummated, darlin’” he said.

“You got me, Don. I will be an honorable and proper wife...”

“And I will be an honorable and proper husband. And you’ll get your licenses so we can fly together, okay?”

“Yes, dear,” I said, paused, looked at him. “And you’ll get us a marriage license with two signatures and an officiant, right?”

“Yes, dear.”

Cindy’s turn:

Three passengers, a cargo bay full of parts of a generator exciter and a load of baggage and test equipment and Haley Simon as co-pilot.

Stop in Louisiana, naturally, to get my co-pilot. Stop in the Houston area to refuel and collect the parts we need for the job outside Denver.

Destination, well, we were going to Centennial, but then a quick change of plans. Bloomfield. Visit my friends at the Pilatus USA location. Lenya’s never been there.

Phone call. They’re expecting us tomorrow. Haley and I can wing it on our own tonight. Hotel’s shuttle will provide transport, there’s a restaurant on the field, if we want that, but I plan on letting Haley do some decision-making.