Best Served Hot

In this one we have three characters, all of whom are despicable in their own way. Feel free to hate any or all of them. They are totally fictitious and don't represent anyone I know in the real world. I think this story will generate some controversy, though. Especially part 2.

Fred

*

"Go to Boston Center now, on 118.05"

"Center on 118.05 for triple X-Ray."

I dialed the new frequency into COM 2, switched over to that radio, pressed the mike switch on the yoke, and reported in.

I got the expected response. "Roger, X Ray cubed, radar contact." Yeah, they saw me.

*What an unusual day. Just four hours ago I thought I'd be spending another night in Cleveland of all places. Then, we had a breakthrough. If I'd be willing to accept an equity interest in the company, as well as a bit less money, they'd license my patent. "That way", John explained, "we'd be sure you'd be around when we wanted you. You'd have a vested interest."*

*Damn right I would. It would make me truly independent, independent of my wife's family for that matter, and we'd finally get to live 'happily ever after' without them.*

Hey, I'm within a hundred miles of home! Fly the damn airplane stupid, stop daydreaming, plan ahead.

"Boston Center, Mooney six niner triple X Ray would like lower, please."

"Triple X, descend now to 7000 feet."

"Triple X out of 11 for 7."

Close the cowl flaps, pull an inch or so off the manifold pressure, trim a bit nose down. . . there it is, a 500 feet a minute descent. That'll burn 8 minutes, and get me 24 miles closer.

*So, we signed the letter of intent. Our lawyers would see to the details. I made a quick call home, and told Maria I'd be home about 11 tonight. What a life!*

*I called flight service: an Instrument Flight Rules plan would be needed: Rain and clouds and shit all the way home. I filed a flight plan, ETD in one hour.*

*John's wife offered to drive me to the hotel, and then to the airport. You bet I accepted: big mistake. A truly beautiful woman, blonde, blue eyes. Real fantasy material.*

*She came up to the room with me, watched as I started to pack, went into the bathroom as I continued, and she came out, wearing only a towel,just as I finished filling my garment bag.*

*" Uh, what's going on here Sheila?"*

*"Well, you're in the big leagues, now, Al. Time for some big league perks", she said.*

*Until then I was a completely faithful husband. Seriously. And I figured I ought to keep it that way. Seriously*

*"Don't take this wrong but that's not my way, but thanks."*

*But when she came closer to me, and my arms automatically went around her, and felt the towel on her back.*

*"What's the matter, Al? Don't you 'like' girls? Or maybe you're just a little shy."*

*The towel opened, and I touched her skin. Then only our bodies close together held the towel up, and I saw, in the mirror, her smooth back, her naked ass, and those wonderful legs, and she said "What's the matter? You gonna try to tell me you don't like me like this?", and stepped away, and then the towel was gone, and her breasts were as lovely as her legs, and her waist was so slender, and her hips, and her figure, and. . . and I couldn't resist. But I should have. I should have.*

*She drove me wild, and then she drove me to the Burke Lakefront airport, and drove me on out to the airplane to help keep me dry, and then, after my preflight she climbed into the cockpit with me to "Tuck me in", and I was never sucked off like that before in my life! Man, I was on top of the world.*

*I'll have to change my night time pre-start check list. Let's see, right after "verify gear switch is set to down" I'll add "Extinguish all interior lights, position pilot seat fully aft, undo pants, have passenger test alternate joy stick for freedom of movement and lick-off",*

and. . .

*I could still smell her, still feel her mouth, still feel the sensation of that first penetration. And, I missed my scheduled ETD by only a half hour! A life changing half hour.*

*I don't want turn into an unfaithful husband, though, so as great as that sex was. I won't ever let it happen again.*

Back to the real world. I had to call home. I pushed one side of the headset off, pulled out the cell phone, and called. There's never a problem with cell phone connections when you're a mile and a half up in the sky.

"Maria, I'm about 20 minutes out. Will you pick me up?"

"Sure, Al: be careful, viz is awful, it's windy, dark, and raining. I'll see you soon." Maria's a pilot, too. More than that, she went through the bother to become a CFII: she was licensed to teach, including flying on instruments.

ATIS, the automatic briefing broadcast, confirmed what Maria reported. 300 feet ceiling, a mile visibility, winds 140 degrees at 23 gusts to 35. It would mean flying the approach to near minimums: as low as I care to go. Then, I'd have to fly the airplane onto the ground in those cross winds.

There'd be nothing subtle about this landing, that's for sure.

"Triple X, continue decent to 3000."

"X's is out of 8 for 3."

As expected, a few minutes later, the next hand-off: "Triple X, Boston Approach now, 122.25."

"Twenty two, twenty five for X cubed. See Ya."

I twisted in the new freq on COM 1, switched radios, and made the call.

"Approach, Mooney six niner triple X Ray out of 5 for 3, with Hanscom information Bravo", confirming I had listened to the ATIS broadcast.

"Triple X, radar contact. Continue decent to 2,500, expect an ILS to one one. Current ATIS information is Charlie."

The weather was changing quickly, I guessed, and for the worse. It still sucks, but the instrument landing system to runway 11 had the lowest landing minimums at the airport. I should make it home.

All was going well. This WAS the big leagues.

"Triple X, you are 4 miles from the outer marker. Cleared for an ILS to Hanscom runway 11. Contact tower on 119 point 5 at the outer marker."

"Roger, cleared for the ILS, tower on nineteen five at the outer marker."

The localizer reported I was lined up, and here comes the glide slope. . . centered, and there was the "*beep * beep * beep*" of the outer marker, the ADF needle swung around and pointed to the tail, and now get the gear down and set flaps at thirty percent - no full flap landing in these winds - adjust mixture, prop forward, fuel pump to on, get the descent rate on the glide slope nailed, and switch the radio to tower and

"Triple X is at the marker inbound."

"Mooney Triple X Ray, Hanscom tower, you are cleared to land."

I checked, double checked, and triple checked: the airplane was all set up for a missed approach just in case I don't break out of the clouds in time to land. "Always treat finding the airport as a happy accident" my wife/instructor says - that way not finding it when you are already as low as you can go won't coe as such a nasty surprise.

Hey, that wasn't so bad. 400 feet above the ground and a mile from the runway threshold I saw the VASI, the strobe lead in lights, switch my landing lights on (you keep them off when you're in the clouds, the glare can really screw up your night vision), and on to the runway without bending or breaking anything (always a good sign), and taxi to the tie down. How 'bout that?

God DIDN'T punish me for fucking around! At least, not yet.

Turns out He was saving that little gem for later.

I saw the headlights, and my wife drove the minivan up to the airplane. She was tying down the tail before I was out, and in a moment the airplane was secure. I got a welcome home kiss, and then, when the lights came on in the van, it started.

"Al, there's lipstick on your mouth. And on your collar!"

Oh shit! There's no washroom on a little airplane: no way to alter evidence, and now there was no time to think of an excuse.

It was a silent ride home. Then we were in the door, and she looked at me, and - they always know, don't they?

(SLAP)!!!!

"YOU BEEN FUCKING AROUND!"

I can't lie to her. So I tried to explain. I rationalized. It was no big deal, just a one time event, it would never happen again, and I was sorry, so sorry, and. . .

And she wasn't buying any of it. At all. Not even a little bit.

Maria comes from a Sicilian family. Nice people, but strict. She has 'old country' values. So do I, for that matter.

"Not a big thing! Not a big thing! Big man, telling his wife it's 'no big thing' for him to screw around with other women! You bastard!"

From a high as possible to as low as possible in just a couple of hours. That's what comes from thinking with the little head.

Now, I love my wife. I really do. She's the most important thing in my life to me. I told her all of that, over and over but somehow those explanations weren't carrying any weight.

So I slept in the guest room for the next few nights.

Maria was still angry and if you ever see her angry, trust me, you'll never forget it.

"You cheating sonofabitch! And I can't even tell my family!"

Her family! Oh. My. God. I'd forgotten about them!

HO-LY shit, I could be a dead man. Really. I'm talking graveyard dead but probably without the graveyard.

I flashed back to our wedding, and her dad taking me aside as he gave me keys to our house: "A little wedding present".

And I remembered what he told me, standing there with his arm around me. "I like you, Al, you're a good boy, but if you ever hurt my Maria you're gonna regret ever being born, but, Al, you're not going to regret it for long! Capish?"

And I remember her three big brothers talking to me later.

"I'll bet pop told you Maria is the apple of his eye, and he probably threatened you if you didn't keep her happy" her oldest brother, Monsignor Mario, guessed.

"That's right, Mario. That's almost exactly what he said."

Well, yes, I do just call him Mario. He said family didn't have to use his honorifics.

"Relax. You don't have to worry about him," Vincent, the lawyer brother said. "If you do anything bad to her, anything at all, by the time we're done with you, there's not gonna be enough left of you for pop to hurt! You remember that, Al. Remember that."

Mario added "I was very happy to celebrate your Wedding Mass, Albert, I'd hate to have to do your funeral one. You just behave yourself and treat Maria good."

And Jack, the oldest brother, the one with the construction company, - Big Jack, he's called - he didn't actually say anything. He just shook my hand, nodding congratulations on marrying his little sister, and it only took a week for the pain in my hand to go away.

THAT was the family I now prayed she wasn't going to tell! Believe me, I was praying hard, too!

Finally, six days after Cleveland, I was summoned by her. And you better believe I went, and as meekly as I could manage, too.

"Sit."

I sat.

"Tell me every detail, cheater!"

I did.

"OK. I thought it over and I've decided I want this marriage to continue." She stated.

Thank God. That means I get to continue, too.

"Me too", I agreed.

"But, I AM a Sicilian and you, you're a cheating bastard!"

"Every fiber in me demands revenge on you."

"Maria, it really wasn't a big important thing and it won't ever happen again. . ."

That argument wasn't going to work this time, either.

"Not a big thing! HA! If I screwed around on you, you'd go crazy!!"

"No, no."

OK, maybe that was the wrong thing to say.

Actually it was exactly the wrong thing to say.

"No? Yeah well, we'll just see about that!"

She stormed out. There are times when I think I'm pretty smart, and then there are those times when I seem to work extra hard to prove I'm not.

Like just then.

The next evening Maria threw the contract, the one that came from Cleveland, that her brother Vincent just reviewed, on the table. "Vincent says you've got a good deal here. This is fine for us. Sign it."

Well, at least one part of the trip paid off. I signed.

"Anyhow, I've decided now on how I'm gonna have my revenge on you."

"Anything, Maria."

"You know you've always been a jealous man, Al. Well, me, I'm a jealous woman. We're gonna see about your 'anything'. You be here when I get back from the gym."

She left, wearing that damned spandex workout suit that made her look so good.

I had not been allowed anywhere near that tight body since Cleveland. That was a long time ago, now, friends. A long HARD time.

And it didn't look like it was gonna be ending anytime soon, either. Can I fuck things up or what?

Ninety minutes later a slammed front door announced that a sweaty Maria had returned.

She marched into my den.

"You remember me telling you about Frank?"

"Frank?"

"Yeah, Frank. That detective who's always hitting on me at the gym."

"Oh, that Frank. Yeah, I remember. What about him?"

"You're the bastard who said fucking around is 'no big deal', remember? Well, Frank is on his way here right now and me and him are gonna fuck and your gonna watch! We'll see just how big a deal you think it is then!"

"What?!"

"You just let him in when he gets here. I'm taking a shower!"

"But.. ."

"No. Buts. YOU started this when YOU couldn't keep YOUR goddamned slimy dick in your pants! Now THIS is gonna be MY revenge! So, you gonna cooperate? Or you want maybe I should call Poppa!"

"But. . ."

But nothing. She was gone up to the bathroom.

I was left standing there, mouth open. Stunned. Stunned and stupid, let's not forget that part.

Yeah I was oh, so stupid. But I was going to get educated real soon.

I was still standing there when, a few minutes later, the bell rang.

I opened the door, and Frank: great big black Frank, wearing his jacket, boat shoes, chinos, and a golf shirt, pushed his way in.

"I'm Frank. You must be Al. Christ, man, you have fucked it up big time and I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"What the hell?"

He interrupted. "Man, I've been wanting to screw your wife from the first time I laid eyes on her. I told her a long time ago it could be anytime, anywhere, any way, and the kinkier the better. Tonight she told me you'd been out screwing around on her, and that if I still wanted to, tonight was gonna be my night, right here was the place, and showing you what it's like to have your wife screw around on you is the way. Oh yeah, man, I live for parties like this. Where is she?"

"She's in the shower, but you. . ."

This big man just said "Shut up, shithead. You've already fucked up. Go make yourself useful, get me a beer."

I heard a voice from upstairs: "Al, you do what you're told!"

And then Maria appeared, wearing a long robe.

She took Frank by the hand - no beer,( a small victory! ) - and pulled him angrily up the stairs.

At the top of the stairs she turned, and saw me still standing there, mouth hanging open.

"Get up here, asshole" she demanded. "You're the one who said this was 'no big deal', huh? Now we're gonna see how YOU like it!"

The grin on Frank's face was lecherous as he beckoned me with his finger. His middle finger.

What an asshole. The worst part is, yeah, I followed them upstairs. I was actually thinking of Poppa right then.

And cement.

He was led and led me to the guest room. The bed was already turned down, the lighting was low.

Maria drained a drink she had in the room. Poured another.

"Let's get this over with," she said, "Let's do it, Frank."