The Paul & Jenny Stories Pt. 16j: Spanish Honeymoon Part 10
(Copyright 2002. All rights reserved).
I replaced the receiver and looked at Jenny.
"I wonder what she meant?" I asked.
"Who?" Jenny replied.
"My mother."
"What about?"
"Me being careful."
"Oh. You should always be that."
She'd moved closer and I could feel her fanny against the outside of my thigh.
I tried to push her jeans up between the cheeks of her ass but the material was stretched too tight across them.
"We have to go shopping." Jenny said kissing me on the cheek. "Go shave and get your wallet and we'll go. I have to speak to Carlos."
I watched her ass cheeks as she walked into the main room which lead to the kitchens where Carlos seemed to spend most of his day.
I went upstairs and visited the bathroom then collected my things, stowing them away in my pockets. Wallet, keys, small change and handkerchief. I noticed our passports were lying out on top of the dressing table. I opened the drawer to put them back together with my private pilot's licence. That was strange. I was sure I had left it there. Oh well. I could look for it later. I had promised to take Jenny onto Gibraltar and today could be the day so I placed the passports in one of the breast pockets of my safari shirt.
I went back down stairs. Jenny was standing by the front door with Herto.
"Herto is going to drive us." Jenny said as I joined her and she kissed me on the cheek and pressed herself against me as if she hadn't seen me in ages.
"I can drive." I protested.
I hadn't fucked Jenny in a car in months.
"I want Herto to drive." Jenny said firmly.
Oh well.
I followed them out to the car. I sat in the back next to Jenny and placed my arm around her. Herto pulled away turned right out of the gate.
"Where do you want to go?" I asked.
"Herto knows the way." She said, leaning her head against my shoulder.
"What time is it?"
I looked at my wristwatch.
"Half-past nine." I replied, moving my hand up under her arm and touching the side of her breast with my fingers.
"Oh good."
I could tell she was smiling even tough I could only see the top of her head. Herto turned onto the main road towards Gibraltar. I could see a jetliner landing at the airport ahead.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
I didn't really care. It was nice sitting here with my arm around Jenny and my hand on her breast.
Herto took the turning for the airport. I thought about asking where he was taking us again but didn't have the energy. It would suit me if her drove around like this until lunch.
Herto was driving past the main entrance to the airport. I tried to think what else was on this road. There were some villages famous for lace making and some vineyards in the hills ahead. If we were going wine sampling I was was glad Herto was driving after all.
He was slowing and taking the entrance to the private aerodrome we used when we flew out in my father's plane. It was a shame he wouldn't lend it to me to come out in.
Herto pulled up outside of the main hangers. I recognised Mr Thompson. He had been living Spain since after leaving the RAF in the fifties. He gave joy rides to tourists. He had always said that Spain would become the tourist centre of Europe. It looked as if he was going to be proved right.
He was standing in front of a red and white Cessna. It looked brand new.
We climbed out of the car and Jenny led the way to the plane.
"Hallo Paul." Mr Thompson said as we approached.
I made the introductions.
"Nice machine." I said, looking at the plane "Have you finally bought a new one?"
"Oh, it's not mine. I've just been flight testing her for the new owner."
"Lucky owner." I tried to keep a note of envy out of my voice.
It was a good-looking machine. The fuselage beneath the high wing on its fixed three wheel undercarriage.
"Try her out."
Mr Thompson was holding the door to the pilot's seat open.
"Are you sure the owner won't mind?" I asked, wanting to climb inside but still hesitating.
"Let's get in." Jenny urged from the far side of the machine.
I hadn't even noticed her walking round.
"Ok." I said climbing up into the seat.
Jenny beat me by getting her ass on the seat first. Mr Thompson climbed in past Jenny's seat and sat in the middle of the bench seat along the rear of the cabin.
"She's a grand machine."
For the first time I noticed a slight hint of a Scottish accent in his voice. He ran through the controls then told me the planes technical specs. He was acting like a salesman. He'd already won me over. I wasn't poor. I could afford to buy a plane. We could base it at Bristol airport. We could visit all of our relations in it.