They arrived at the airport just before seven o’clock and Jack unloaded the travel cases from the trunk before dropping off the keys at the Avis counter. As they strode side by side toward the security gate, his hand seemed to keep brushing hers, sending little messages of intent. Security was lax and the guard recognized her as the lady pilot. Jack held open the glass door and they stepped onto the tarmac.
The pink Bikini-Bus was a scant one-hundred feet away, parked on the apron. Inside the plane, Jack stowed his case in an overhead bin and followed Irene into the cockpit where he placed her case in the locker and watched smugly as she slipped into the pilot’s seat. He couldn’t miss the way in which her short dress skinny-ed up her nude thighs; and the fact that she was confident enough not to freak and wrestle the hemline back into place.
“Take the opposite seat,” Irene offered. “Keep me company until Bev arrives.”
Jack watched her pull on her headset and flip the switch for the radio. She lifted a clipboard and began working her way down a list of instructions, her brow knitted in concentration. He struggled into the right-hand seat, got settled and was awed by the array of instrumentation. He looked out at the clear open sky.
“Always wanted to know what it would be like to fly one of these.”
“Me too,” Irene answered blandly without looking up. She felt his gaze shift. “Good thing Bev knows how to fly this pink monstrosity.”
“What…?”
Irene pressed a switch. “Cockpit to Ground. “Push-back requested.” Irene listened for a moment and checked her clipboard. A few moments later a yellow tractor with flashers pulled under the aircraft. Jack could hear men’s voices and the metallic snatch as the tow was locked into place.
“Brakes off.” Irene spoke into the headset. “Roger.”
The was a jolt and Jack felt the plane start to move. As he looked out the side window, the airport terminal swung into view. He could see the tourists that lined the upper viewing deck leaning out to watch as the Bikini-Bus was backed into position. He felt rather smug, thinking the woman beside him was directing the preparations for takeoff.
“Power?” Irene’s voice, sounding steady and unaffected. “Charging. Roger.”
She leaned forward and starting flicking switches at random. Instrumentation suddenly jumped to life, glowing, needles bouncing and digital screens scrolled up registering pressures, voltages, amps, levels, and temperatures. Jack was dumbfounded. How could she keep everything straight?
He heard the sound of the cabin door opening. “Oh– Hello.”
Jack turned to find a startled blonde looking down at him from the doorway. She was as cute as a newborn bunny in her blue-tinted sunglasses; the color matching the skimpy two-piece that did little to cover a lithe body. She hit him with a wide smile. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything good,” she said and giggled like a sixteen-year-old mall rat.
“Jack? This is the girl who will be flying you home,” Irene said, still working on her instructions. “Bev? Meet Jack Namath.”
“The football player?” Bev’s eyes were round.
Jack cleared his throat. “No. That was Joe.”
“Joe…” Bev repeated, a line appearing between her brows.
Jack’s voice was unsteady. “You got your driver’s license yet?”
Bev and Jack turned together at Irene’s sudden burst of laughter. “Oh dear, sorry.” Irene was searching in a pocket for a tissue. “You better let Bev have her seat. She’s the only one who seems to be able to figure out the navigation on this thing.”
Jack humped his lips and slipped out between the seats. Bev stepped back into the service area to let him pass. As he squeezed by, he got a marvelous look down the front of her top, right between plump young breasts. And she didn’t seem to mind the indiscretion. But he was too rattled to enjoy the view. “She’s kidding, right? About the navigation,” he said into Bev’s tilted face.
“Don’t know,” Bev was studying his features with keen interest. “I just fly the plane and ask for directions along the way.” And placing a hand on his chest, she slipped forward, tracing a hard nipple suggestively along his bare arm.
That night, at the Miami Best Western, Irene dreamed she was stretched out alongside a naked man. She was fully clothed, still in her yellow sundress and she shamelessly held his penis in both of her hands. He was groaning as she stroked the foreskin.
“I love him,” she heard herself speak the words out loud to herself.
“Yes. But you fuck me.”
And to her horror, the security man rolled her over onto her back. She grabbed him around those rocky biceps and held on as he peeled her panties down.
She screamed and abruptly, she found herself awake, sweaty, and alone in her bed.
The Bikini-Bus lifted off at precisely nine-thirty the following morning with a full complement of party-goers. As soon as Bev had them airborne, Irene tossed off her headset and moved to the cabin door. She knew Alex would be in the service area, preparing for the first round of snacks.
Alex stood, with her back turned, at the stainless steel counter. Even though the cabin door closed with an audible snap, Alex failed to acknowledge the fact she wasn’t alone. She continued working with her back toward Irene.
Irene’s heart gave a little. She moved in behind her friend and wrapping her arms around Alex’s torso, she gave her a ferocious bear-hug. “I love you, Alex,” Irene breathed and kissed the wispy hairs at the back of her neck.
Alex sagged. Her hands dropped to the counter, palms up, and her head rolled forward. She stifled a sob. “Oh Irene. You can’t imagine how awful it was,” her voice trembled. “Rob would…” Her words trailed off.
“I know, baby.” Irene redoubled her grip and lay her cheek on the tall girl’s shoulder. Alex returned the affection, placing her hands on Irene’s arms. “Just know I’m here for you,” Irene continued. “I know some of it; but not all of it. If you want to talk, I’ll listen. If you don’t, that’s fine too. But I’ll be here. And you can trust me. Understand?”
Alex still couldn’t turn to face her friend, but a bridge had been crossed. “Thank you,” she whispered. I need you.” And her body was suddenly racked with sorrow, the tears burning her cheeks.
Irene let her go and moved off toward the passenger compartment. Alex would need a few minutes.
Irene stood at the front of the plane and gazed toward the circular bar in the rear where her MIT student, Linda, was busily pouring scotch. Irene heard the door to the john close behind, the bolt sliding across, and was about to turn back when she spotted Jack Namath seated in the third row, window seat, flipping a magazine. Her knees weakened and she almost fell to pieces. It was like she hadn’t seen him in ten years.
“Jack,” she hissed and unwittingly she took a step forward. “What…?”
His chin came up and he smiled, but abruptly paled and looked away.
A dozen men raised their heads, their attention focused to where the crotch of her high cut swimsuit was pulled tight over the shaved rolls of her sex. “Oh Jesus!”
She took a step back, turned and rushed to the safety of the flight-deck. Bev didn’t look up when Irene dropped into her seat. Jack had been clearly embarrassed for her, she thought bitterly. Guess his mother wouldn’t approve.
“You got a thing going for that guy, Jack?” Bev asked lightly.
Irene tried to clear her senses, her mood still gloomy. “Naw. Nothing serious. Just someone I met yesterday on the flight to Cayman.”
“Good,” Bev reiterated. “It’s just that he’s cute. You don’t mind if I take a run at him, then?”
Irene’s hands were shaking. “Not at all. He’s kind of old for you but there’s money; go for it!”
“Thanks,” Bev said. “Leveling off. Forty-thousand feet and bearing 1-40 south for the Windward Passage. Two hours and we’ll be home.”
“Thank God,” Irene exhaled and she closed her eyes. “You ever feel like you’ve been gutted?”
“Yeah. Charlie Scirocco does it to me every time.”
“You sleeping with him?”
“Only anytime he decides he wants a little blond chicky.”
Irene lifted herself up. “And you’re okay with that? Just doing it when he asks?”
“I’m okay with making a hundred grand a year, tax free with all my living expenses thrown in. I know people think of me as a bit of an airhead, but I’m not stupid. If you’re going to fuck, you might as well fuck someone who can improve your standard of living. For now, that’s Scirocco. Life’s not perfect but I’m willing to accept that. Looking at my bank balance helps.”
Irene was suddenly overcome by a certain sadness.
Bettering her estimate, Bev skipped down the runway on Cracker-Jax without a bounce, ten minutes ahead of schedule. There was a roar of approval from the passenger compartment as Irene steered the plane onto the apron where the fleet of Hummer limousines waited to ferry the guests to the open-air reception desk. As the engines cooled she thought of having to go back and shake hands with the passengers as they exited the plane. She couldn’t stomach the thought of watching Jack trying to dodge the sight of her body while the other men made rude comments about what they’d like to do to her.
She’d heard them all:
You can fly my bird anytime!
or
Baby, I’d like to park my prick in your hanger…
and then there was
Your tits bounce when you land?
or
Hey, spread your wings for me!
And her favorite:
You must be a pilot… my dick just took off!
“You want to go back?” She put the question to Bev. “See everyone off while I complete the shutdown.”
Bev was happy to be relieved of duty. “Sure,” she grinned and slipped out from behind the flight yoke while adjusting her blue sunglasses. “It’ll be fun.”
Bev made her way across the service area and took up a position by the forward exit, standing across from Alex who had already opened the door and was making small talk. The two of them smiled prettily, shook hands and joked with the passengers.
When Bev saw Jack Namath shuffling forward along the center aisle she grinned like a fox with a bunny in its sites. “It’s so nice to see you again, Jack,” she cooed and raised her arms to him.