Chapter 127

Ah ... yes! Ashes hauled ... if I had known ash hauling was so much fun ... Well ... as it was ... I was making up for lost time.

Alice was in the hot tub with Everett ... lots. Alice didn’t need making up ... she didn’t have ANY lost time.

On the night in question, I led. Make no mistake ... I was in charge. Adam Dent didn’t stand a chance. I forced my flesh to his flesh with no regrets or hesitation.

“Ow ... wait.” Maybe a little hesitation. “That stung.”

There was a pause as I accommodated and adjusted. I never felt so full.

“Just a little,” I moaned, “Aah ... ooo.”

I experimented with a push.

“Mmmmm ... yes.”

“Oooo ... move ... aahh. Slowly ... Yes ... yes ... yesyesyes.”

And that’s all you get.

Morning and I thought I’d been a-horseback ... all night.

Walking was ... interesting. Riding my Kona?

Not for a little while.

Sex ... as practiced by a ‘newby’ is pretty aerobic ... heart rate up ... oxygen level to the moon ... newly discovered muscle mass ... yup. And there are so many positional variations possible that it’s pretty new all the time.

I ... for sure ... got a lot of practice ... and then ... Spring Break. I have this nifty two seat aircraft that has a 1300 mile range and a reasonable ‘loiter’ time.

When we woke up this morning the temperature was 29 degrees.F. In TEXAS. 29 ... that’s 3 degrees below frozen water.

It is time to go.

“Adam?”

“Tyche?”

“Spring Break.”

“Cancun!”

“Great idea. Get up. I’ll go warm up the Spad.”

It’s one thing to hop on a commercial airline and bop on down to Cancun ... it’s totally another to take your own plane.

There are laws.

Not just rules ... LAWS.

Passports ... registrations ... visas ... international insurance ... customs officers ... and Cancun doesn’t hangar ... it’s Tiedowns ... parking ... fuel ... MILSpec oil ... and nosy military.

Eight hundred rounds of 20 mil and four cannon. Bopping down to Cancun has just become impossibly complicated.

“Colonel Joe?”

“I know that voice ... Tyche?”

“Help.”

“What?”

“Spring Break ... we want to go to Cancun ... in the Spad.”

“I’ll call you back.”

“Now?” My teeth chattered, “Colonel, it’s 29 degrees outside.”

“I know. Tomorrow. I need to explore possibles.”

On the morrow, my cell played the Star Spangled Banner ... Col. Joe

“Colonel Joe,” I said.

“Good to hear your voice, Tyche.” Joe said. “Let me guess ... I have my own ring.”

“Yessir.”

“You cannot take weapons ... i.e ... your four AN/M3 cannon to Cancun...”

“Aw,” I groused.

“However ... Cozumel is willing to house your complete MILITARY aircraft under secure shelter for the duration of your presence in-country. Warts and all.”

He paused.

“Do not go to Cancun. You and your partner are on a mission ... need to know only. Observe only international cruise ship arrivals and passenger disembarkation. At the end of your break ... leave ... disgruntled.”

“And?”

“Don’t be a hero.”

“You mean ... if I see a crime ... it’s not the one I’m looking for.”

“Exactly.” He paused.

“If you rent, lease or buy a sail or powerboat ... there is a private mooring ball just southwest of the International Pier. Use it.”

“Government reimbursement?”

“No ... it’s your boat.”

“How do I get the boat home?”

“You’re going to buy one?”

“Of course ... better parties.”

When I returned to Austin, I signed up for Anthropology 304T ... Archaeology of Texas. I followed up with the State Field School. Cozumel has ongoing digs and I got interested.

Surprise was surprised. “Damn it, Tyche. Archaeology is going to ruin you.”