Chapter 41

Time heals.

By the time two weeks went by, we were all back to normal. Even my leg felt almost normal. It didn't bother a bit to know that the people who shot me, along with those that sent them to shoot me were all dead. If you ask for trouble, you will always find it. Sometimes what you find is worse than what you expected, and my attackers discovered that a little too late to help them.

Benjamin and I spent almost every waking moment together, and he continued to bring endless joy, as did my ladies and friends. The weather was great, and Brian came home for a short break, which pleased us all, but Beth Ann was most grateful to have her baby back. We took the houseboat out, bar-b-qued on the top deck, played on the jet skis, and had a marvelous time.

When the "G" left to take Brian home, we all missed his energy, happy-go-lucky personality, and playfulness. Beth Ann rode back with him to take him clothes shopping. He was outgrowing everything. I even gave him a bunch my clothes that I rarely wore, which he loved, because he thought my clothes were a big part of getting so many women to want to be with me.

Like everything, this leisure came to an abrupt end when my special phone rang.

It was the Judge. "Carl, Hussein looks like he's getting antsy enough to move on. We think the time is right for you to fly back and stay on the yacht to wet his appetite. Can you be here by tomorrow?"

Nothing like an impossible deadline to get the blood pumping.

"I think so. I might have to round up my flight crew, because we gave them some time off, since I was home..."

"Don't worry about that," the Judge interrupted. "We have a brand new G 650 in service. I'll send it to Springfield and have you picked up in time to meet it." The Judge was in a hurry, so I agreed with his 'suggestion' and got Winnie moving so we could catch the new government plane. I'd heard about the Gulfstream G-650. It was supposed to be the new 'must have' toy for super wealthy people, and I wondered if I needed one ... well, to ... ummm ... well, Just Because!

A new, fully tricked out G-650 would cost me about sixty-five million dollars, hardly chump change, which is why only the super-rich, and governments are buying them. They come in a wide range of layouts, including one that looks remarkably like the interior of a luxury motor home, complete with rear bedroom.

I thought it through as Winnie and I got ready to depart and spent time with my ladies and Benjamin. I knew I didn't need one and really didn't want one. My seven-thirty-seven was my idea of the ultimate private airplane. We had space for EVERYTHING and everyone. And it cost less than the "G5" I already owned. Of course, if I asked, Gulfstream would wet themselves buying back the "G5" to get me into a 650, so it wouldn't be a big expense, but I really liked the Boeing better. Why buy the "G5" just to say I had one?

Right?

Colleen, Rebecca, and Beth Ann all had time for an extended visit to the master bed, and I left them exhausted, which just about killed me.

But what a way to die ... Right?

Winnie and I were hustled aboard the sparkling new jet, parked in the dark away from any lighted areas, to keep our departure a secret. The Judge thought these things through, without needing time to think. He just knew what to do, and did it.

The jet was quiet. I LOVED that. It was very comfortable, but so much had been designed into the cabin, that it felt a little tight to me, and I knew that being crowded wasn't my idea of a good way to blow off sixty-five million bucks. The elegance was through and through. Nothing was left to chance. From the exquisite china, to the nine-hundred count sheets on the bed, every comfort was included.

Our pilots were the strong silent types. Other than to wish a good flight, they closed themselves in the cockpit, and we were on our own. I rummaged around the galley and found it was well stocked for when we got hungry, especially if we re-qualified for the mile high club ... over and over again. The truth is, Winnie and I made quiet, gentle love, very slowly, shortly after we hit cruising altitude. We enjoyed a great fend-for-yourself, snack from the galley, and slept the rest of the flight, waking only in time to wash up and make ourselves presentable.

The flight time from Springfield to Monte Carlo at five hundred miles per hour, is about ten hours and is well within the range of either of our planes, and certainly under the seven thousand mile range of the G650. Ten hours is a long time to fly, and sleeping is a great way to spend it, so we made no attempt not to sleep after having sex.

Because we were heading back to our two hundred foot yacht, Winnie dolled herself up to the max, and heads turned from every direction to get a better look at her. I felt very proud to know she was panting beneath me just a short time ago, and would be again, soon.

The yacht was right where we left it, and our crew welcomed us back like long lost relatives. The time change and lateness of our departure from Springfield had us out of sync as far as hitting the casino right away. Winnie suggested a soak in the hot tub, before a late/early dinner-breakfast, to get us on schedule. In a flash we were naked and cuddling in the hundred-degree water, enjoying the view of the Mediterranean Sea from the back deck.